Caim
by morgn
Summary: They shouldn't be more than fairy tales, but they are. This shouldn't be happening, but it is. He should be dead, so why isn't he? OC's. Spideytiger. Sequel to 'Volatile.'
1. reunión

_**[noted]**_ :

It's the big debut of Caim, which I am totally excited about! I debated for a while on how to put up the chapters and how to format it and I sorta slipped into old habits but they die hard don't they? I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's sorta an introduction chapter mostly. Sorry i kept you guys waiting so long, please enjoy.

Guest: an empath is someone who can detect feelings and emotions from someone else, and in the marvel universe, the best example I can offer is Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) and even Danny.

* * *

 **[ chapter one ]**

 ** _reunión_**

Translation - meeting

Appropriation - " _Furia del llamado a una reunión. Ahora_."

* * *

"Looks like heaven's missing an angel."

"Oh for god's sake."

A snort like a bullhorn sounded behind white shoulders, and red and blue arms crept sneakily around a lithe waist, trapping her like iron gauntlets to his chest. A masked face hooked over her shoulder like curled fingers, pressing into the nape of her neck as she allowed herself a bit of peace between the silent walls.

"Come on, you're meant to give me constructive criticism when I'm trying out new material," he murmurs, grinning beneath the mask when her claws trail clandestine gentleness that she isn't known for - her brash, upfront attitude is more welcomed - but whenever the masked vigilante is present, she turns soft like a kitten. If he were wishing to aggravate the cat-themed hero, he'd have murmured something about a purr when he gives her a small squeeze. "Come on, what did you think, Tiger?"

"Absolutely hopeless," she turns like a spinning wheel in his arms, and picked claws lace over the bend of his shoulders and she can see the pull of his cheeks even beneath the web-themed mask. She scratches a bit of stray fluff out of existence on his upper arm. "How on earth did Aunt May raise you to tell such bad jokes?"

"Actually, she never lifted me, I was sat down a lot."

The tigress snorts and slaps a hand over her cloth-covered mouth, and she only ceases her laughter when the cloth is being pulled up and her boyfriend's mouth is pressing to hers in a vaguely-playful threat to stifle the giggles. A pleased noise slips through her teeth and she's tempted to shred the mask to pieces, just to piss him off -

 _Shriek._ Both heroes spring apart like fire had licked at their bare skin and the web-themed hero is running the rolled up cloth back down his face and White Tiger's chewing on her lip when they turned to their friend and teammate, eyes covering the sunglasses he's known for. She sighs around her embarrassment and rolls down her mask. "Powerman, seriously? You didn't have to scream so loud."

"Learn to turn down the decibels a bit."

Powerman chokes on his words, before leveling an annoyed sneer across his face, but it lacks any true vehemence. " _Hey,_ not my fault you're slobbering all over each other in the hallway. Send out a mass text once in a while or bar the hallways. My eyes hate me right now."

When her arms cross over her chest and her boyfriend is snickering when he throws an arm around her shoulder, she's tempted to elbow him. "Alright man, what did you want?"

"Fury's calling a meeting. Now."

She crawls out of the web-themed heroes arms out of instinct, molding into the agent she's been carved into with iron in her blood and strides forwards whilst behind her, the spider huffs around his annoyance and ambles beside them, swinging his arm nonchalantly.

"Are you serious? That's been three this week; I can only take you guys so much."

"Hey, don't look at me, you're the one's freaking _us_ out. Remember how you two scarred Tempest?"

"Don't bring me in on this."

"It takes two to tangle tongues -"

"Ew."

"-Anyways, she should've knocked. What's this meeting about anyways? Rats in the vents? That's not uncommon in New York, you know."

Powerman shrugs his shoulders, failing to stop them shaking with laughter as they walk down towards the double doors that open to the wide room, with arched, metallic walls and a wide screen displayed at the back. A long table stretches like thread through the room, chairs scattered around it haphazardly, and in one, sat a bare-faced blond, spinning like a child on one. But, upon noticing he was no longer alone, the green-wreathed blond folded his hands and legs expertly into a traditional meditation sitting, humming slightly under his breath.

When he was met with curious looks, he stayed calm. "Spinning helps me meditate."

"Of course it does," commented a voice behind them, hard rock folding around every word and Spiderman jumped, lacing his arms around Powerman's wide shoulders before jumping down after a few moments, wiping his front off and staring around the room as he took a seat. Tiger sniggered as she fell down into her own seat, rolling the cloth from her face with a broad smile at her boyfriend as Powerman took a seat next to him.

Meanwhile, the man the voice belonged too raised one eyebrow, shuffling the papers folded gently in his hands, moving around the table briskly and lying the papers on the desk at the head. Powerman folded his glasses and leaned forwards, eyes slotting closed for a moment as the man picked through papers, betraying him for his lack of sleep as Spiderman pulled off his own mask.

"Luke, you really should be getting more sleep."

Across from Luke, Spiderman gaped. "How on earth did he see that? You're on his blindside!"

"I'm also exceptionally good of hearing Parker," ground out the man, spearing a dark gaze across the table before his fingers found the right file and threw it open, revealing a small projector panel in the center. His palm pressed over the small device, which threw up a square of holographic projection.

"Why don't Nova and Tempest have to be here for this?"

"Sam just sent a text," remarks the blond, leaning over to sneakily produce his phone, with a jumble of text on the screen, "He'll be by with Temp in about twenty of minutes and we'll give them the 'rundown'."

"Figures. They miss the lecture, we give them the short version."

"First, I want to commend you on your recent detainment of the Alabasters," cuts in Fury, fingers prodding and poking across text to show video footage of a pair of adults dressed in white, wrapped and bound in wire and webbing fluid. Someone high-fived and Fury continued like a trained soldier, "Known for their camouflage, their exceptional way to blend into even the toughest crowds and for a couple of rookies, you did good."

"Nick, it's been two years!"

"I'm aware, but you're still rookies and _still_ kids," and he seems to pause, crinkle at the edges when he lifts another hand to the projector - hesitation like a stutter in his throat, and Tiger raises a brow before he continues, pushing through the out of body experience. His fingers find a small block in the corner of the screen, pinch from both sides and enlarge so that a picture stands in front of them. "But that's not what I came to discuss."

In front of them, in holographic glory, is a group of five teenagers. It's taken from across the room, in plain sight as no objects hinder or interrupt the image. Closest to the image is a girl, blond hair scraggly and up in a high, messy ponytail that droops down her back like a cat's folded tail. Her eyes are narrowed, ice curling across the pupils that correspond with the harsh shape of her mouth, although there is a slight tilt. Her body is bent like a ballerina - back poised like a harp string, knees bent like springs and across her hands and wrists, fire explodes like shrapnel under her command. Beside her, bent lower so his hands almost touch the ground like an animal, is a boy with black hair like his eyes, with a wide grin that looks almost shark-like if analysed long enough, black headband and diamond mask obscuring parts of his face from the picture. The black tank top seems to hang like drying laundry off of his shoulders, as well as his skin glistening with either sweat or water. The image was taken at just the exact moment to catch the boy half way between boy and animal as he attacked.

Hovering above them, is a Hispanic girl with ebony hair in thick curls, that sways behind her like the wind is braiding it's teeth through it, a long braid flowing through it. Her chin is tucked into her chest with a challenging smile, biting on the edges of rebellion as her arms are thrown wide, like she hangs on a cross as a goddess. Over her body, is sleek, grey jumpsuit that is zipped down to her navel, showing off a black sports bra so much that Peter immediately diverts his eyes from the girl to a corner of the room. From her finger tips, are splintered light bugs if seen at first glance, but are molded into knives like claws. Her gaze drips across the room towards two more people, a boy and a girl, half-facing them.

The girl stands with her back to the camera, clad in a complete black body suit that hugs her figures down to small black boots that fold around her ankles. Her hand is up to the other three across the room, paused like she holds puppets strings in her fingers. Across from her, is a boy with his hands curled like claws at his chest, crackled electricity arching like vines across his fair-skinned hands. His face is obscured by the visor that hangs over his features, though his eyes can be seen as wide - almost in wonder at his own hands - though his mouth is a bitten piece of skin in anxiety. He's dressed in a leather yellow-and-blue jumpsuit that huffs a collar around his throat, a thunderbolt stabbing it's way across his chest in the design. His feet are placed a few inches apart, awaiting the onslaught of their teammates.

Fury taps his fingers idly, before Luke peers forwards, confused by the image. "So, who are they? What about them?"

Fury huffs a breath, pausing in the corners, before pushing forwards. "This is Paradox 13, or P13. I'm not sure if you'd have heard of them from other agents, since they aren't documented in the SHIELD handbook as part of our regimen or against us. They're ghosts, but contrary to the ghost stories, they're ours," his fingers shuffle, and an incident report lights the screen across half the picture, blotting out the two lone figures on one side. Lines of text greet them, and Fury tosses out folders, two more towards Peter for Nova and Tempest to read. "Lately, we've had them tracking a group of terrorists that have split into groups of five, but they've been having trouble keeping track of them all. They could only tail one group, and they're sure that it's a group of teenage girls, as boys and girls are kept separate. But it's gotten to the point where they've engaged at least once, and come out on the worst side, so they need help."

Tiger's halfway through flicking across her report, dark brows crunched in concentration when she peers up. "And you want us to help them? No offence Director, but you did just call us rookies ten minutes ago."

The dark-skinned man nods, ivory crawling through his skin as he tries not to sigh around his discomfort at the idea. "I know, but given the circumstances, you're our most eligible team. You're young, so you can connect with both Paradox and this other group of individuals. You're experienced and most of all, you're _kind._ That's something that's not really appreciated in our line of work, but it should be - these kids, they're kind _to a fault_. They'll do what it takes to get a mission done, kill or be killed. They need the social experience to complete this mission and win them over."

"You're putting us on this mission because we're good at smiling?"

Fury bites on a laugh at the simple accusation, hardly betraying his stone mask. "That would appear so, Parker. Gear up, all of you. I invited them on here to go over battle plans and train before the mission goes underway."

"W-Wait, they're here already?" spits Luke as he folds the sunglasses over his features once again, jogging to catch up with the director who taps out a few commands onto his wrist communicator. Beside him, Iron Fist hands him the stack of folders he'd left on the table back in the room.

The Director continues a few more steps before answering. "Yes, they're efficient enough to want to get right to work. What _they_ don't know is that this is also an introduction session to their temporary new teammates."

They come into view of the training room, and the doors slide open with a scream that rattles the hall as yelling ensues from inside the room. It's not unknown for there to be noise - Powerman's music player, a few agents humming as they fight to keep fit - but unbridled screaming in anger has never been found to shake the room. Spiderman plunges his hands over his ears, careful of his folder, to block out the noise that threatens to shatter his ear drums.

Across the room, a flickering blue energy hovers in the air, black helmet pulsing with the power that resides beneath it's chrome sphere. Nova's mouth is twisted into an angry line, spilling insults and sarcasm like water over the jut of his lip towards a girl with dark hair, the same girl on the photo. Her hands are placed on her hips, rebellious smile tugging it's way across her mouth as she reverts back in retort to his anger.

Beneath Nova, hanging onto his foot to try to bring him back to the ground is Tempest, tongue twisted over her top lip in concentration and when their teammates push through the doors, she shudders a sigh of relief and mouths a 'help me' towards the other members of their group. She hangs off Nova's leg in defeat when he refuses to reach the ground again after another sharp tug, flinching when his voice raises higher.

"You have absolutely no right to be in here -"

"Actually, I have special clearance that I'm sure _you_ don't, you fuc -"

" _Lux!_ Language," yells the girl that leans on the wall across from the fight, arms crossed over the black jumpsuit, red eye-panels peering inquisitively at the Director and the band of heroes behind him. She doesn't flinch when Lux sighs around her annoyance.

Across the room, Iron Fist crosses to lend a helping hand, and gives a soft nudge to Nova's chest, where it hovers just beside his head. Nova's eyes turn downwards, fire curling like thread through the irises, and Iron Fist waves. "Nova. Come down. You are scaring Tempest."

Immediately, the boys shoulders soften and he floats to the ground, hooking an arm around the timid girl's shoulder which she gladly leans into, thankful the yelling has stopped. Lux tilts back, spearing a glance at the blond before putting the battle to rest. Behind her, one of the boys groans in mock-annoyance at the loss of action, and they pick themselves up like discarded objects, folding into the center of the room along with the Director.

"Alright, now I don't know what the damn hell just happened, but it stops here," everyone, including the other teenagers, turn silent and still as the Director scolds them, before he gestures a hand to the other group towards Spiderman's team. "Ultimates, meet Paradox 13."


	2. pelea

_**[noted]:**_

Surprise - sudden new chapter because it's my birthday! Also, I'm quite fond of you guys, especially since chapter one got literally ten reviews in like, a week as well as faves and follows. Usually, my stories gain one, maybe two hopefully after three chapters. So thank you guys for a great birthday present!

Chapter two's up and ready to go. We met PD13 last chapter, though they weren't really very talkative (except for Lux) so hopefully, we'll learn a little more about them in this chapter, but it'll more or less be their fighting styles and nothing too deep for so early in the story and then maybe something else, I'm not sure.

Also, just wanted to thank all the authors once again for their amazing characters and for the authors whose Oc's are in Esoteric - don't worry! They'll be coming in sometime soon and we'll hopefully get to see them in action as well. If you guys have any questions, then leave them below and I'll answer in the next chapter. But, in the meanwhile, have a great day and thanks, wind-bearers!

Wowza03: Esoteric being terrorists would put a damper on the story? Well, we'll just have to see how this story plays out and anyways, there's more to them than they appear.

TheBunnymastermind: There's quite a vast difference between PD13 and Esoteric - PD13 are obviously SHIELD based and professionals in the business, whilst Esoteric are a little...controversial. it's explained more as the story progresses tbh.

* * *

 **[ chapter two ]**

 _ **pelea**_

Translation - fight

Appropriation - " _Muy bien, tienes una pelea._ "

* * *

"Paradox 13, these are -"

"We _know_ who they are," her voice is tired like weathered rock and her blade for a tongue snaps at her superior like the action has been bred like wildflowers into her bones, crossed over her chest like an annoyed mother and Spiderman raises an eyebrow beneath the mask. Fury only sighs at the frost-bitten nature of the girl clad in black, and she stands straighter when she can see the annoyance lurking like crocodile tails beneath the surface. "We see them every other night on the news, trashing the city. We never _said_ rookies."

From behind Spiderman, Powerman squeaks in surprise. "Hey! We're doing our best and we're _not_ rookies!"

In the back, the boy clad in yellow and blue leather snorts, folding a hand around his mouth to stifle it. "Y-You sure, big guy? I mean, non-rookies don't go tossing cop cars at civilians."

"It was an accident!"

"Or so you say."

"Enough!" barks Fury, hands splayed like an open book offering verses to the readers, eyes wandering across the war zone that's erupted between the two teams. Barbed wire replaces soft tongues and fences push through skin against one another and he can feel his patience waning as the boy folds back into a silent soldier at the back of the group.

In front of Paradox 13, the girl clad in black speaks up again, hip cocked but posture more open. "But it's true, Fury. We never said rookies."

"And they aren't rookies, Stalker. They've been employed here for two years, have trained at SHIELD Academy and have kept New York safe in your absence," Spiderman reels back in shock as Fury levels a stare at the girl, who builds bricks like Lego houses across her skin as he scolds her, especially as he'd called them rookies earlier. Her arms fall to tuck behind her back, and her posture straightens - an unconscious act of respect, but respect nonetheless. "Spiderman's team are heroes, and it would do you a little more good to respect them, and _me_ , as your superior."

"Yes, Director, I stepped out of line," Stalker bows her head for a moment, before sighing and holding out a hand in greeting towards Spiderman, head cocked in scrutiny when Fury leaves the room. "Spiderman, forgive me. My name's Stalker."

He grabs her hand the way she knew he would - without hesitation or parameter, and she can see the edges of his mask pull up in a grin that, if on show to the world, could have blinded her as he folds his fingers around hers, warm and welcoming and far more open than Stalker's ever had the pleasure to meet. She pulls back, unsure of how to continue.

"No worries, water under the bridge. But, you already know my name, so - this is Iron Fist, Nova, Tempest, Powerman and White Tiger," he lists off the heroes like fingers on his hands, nudging White Tiger when she gives no reaction, unlike the others who had given a small greeting. Stalker nods to them and turns to her team, scattered around her like disarmed dominoes at the team's kindness.

"This is Lux, Bolt, Shark and Rouge," she copies Spiderman's movement, a soft trait that doesn't sit well with her with it's simplistic movements, but she does it anyway. She starts with the Hispanic girl in a grey jumpsuit, sliding towards the boy in yellow and blue, before landing on the boy with a grin that resembles shark teeth and towards a timid looking blonde behind him, hands tucked behind her.

"Alright, glad we got that out of the way. So, you needed our help?"

Stalker sighs fitfully, head turned away as if in shame, and gives a reluctant nod, but when she moves to speak, Shark is standing in front of her, almost shadowing her with a wide grin on his face, arms crossed over his chest. Spiderman pulls back from the close proximity, ignoring the barked laugh that escapes Shark and the boy shrugs. "We just need a bit of help coercing them into...well, _silence,_ " he snickers, putting up a finger over his grinning mouth and Stalker groans, "And I know what you're gonna say - 'let's talk tactics then' but no."

"No?"

Shark leans forwards, watching his slightly disgruntled prey. "No. We don't talk team tactics until we can see what you guys can do. _All_ of you," he murmurs, eyes lingering on Tempest as she tucks herself further away from the underlying confrontation, challenging her into the open. Nova hooks his arm tighter around her shoulder, top lip curling in warning at the animal-themed hero.

"You guys don't really have a good grip on being nice, do you?"

Shark shrugs. "Gotta do the best with what you get. So, we're gonna have a little rally."

"Rally?"

"Yeah, a rally," speaks up Lux, her fingers twirling a knife bleeding light across her knuckles. She tosses it into the air, letting it twist like a ballerina a few times, before it heavily places itself back in her palm, and she peers over her shoulder, fingers arched over the tooth bursting with light of the weapon carefully. "A competition or something. We need to see what _you_ can do," her fingers flip the knife so the handle lands in her palm and she gestures towards the others, "and so you can see what _we_ can do," and when she turns it back to herself, the sharp tip pressing above her collarbone, it breathes self-sacrifice.

Spiderman hesitates, turning back to his team but he can see Powerman's knuckles flexing, the muscles beneath Tiger's skin tensing in excitement and Tempest is hovering off of the ground slightly, a wicked smile lighting up her usually melancholy face. Spiderman smirks beneath the mask, and tilts his head back to Paradox 13 as he turns towards his team. "Alright, you got a fight."

He can almost feel the smirk beneath Stalker's mask as she nods behind Shark, who gives a whoop of excitement and bounces towards Rouge, throwing an arm over her shoulders and talking animatedly, dipping his head in and tossing Lux a high-five when she approaches. Spiderman's own team gathers around him for a moment, waiting to be placed and when satisfied, they nod and break apart, to find Paradox 13 shoving Rouge out first.

"I want the big one."

Powerman's brows raise at the sudden transformation from cowardly to cocky, as she pops a hip and her lips twitch at the sides, chewing on the edges of a smile. He cracks his knuckles and wanders forwards, holding out a hand towards her. She stares at it, like a foreign being before slowly, slipping her hand into his, unusual to the custom of friendliness, but it's not something she was brought up with.

They pull apart, and Powerman dances back, as the two teams convene on one side of the room, furthest from the fight. "You sure you want to fight me? I've sorta got super strength."

But his words filter away like water down a storm drain, like bricks disintegrating into dust when she lifts from the ground, taking flight beneath her feet like it's tucked between her toes and she throws her arms in a violent arch down her sides, and fire ignites like starlight in her hands and across her forearms. The blond smiles, any trace of fragility and cowardice woven away beneath the reeds of her strength. "You don't have to be super to be strong."

He blinks at the sudden crack down her spine, the way she folds effortlessly into maturity like it was bred into her long before childhood had brushed a hand on her. In the disarmed state, Rouge rears forwards, and he dodges her foot for a moment, twisting out of her path and swinging a fist haphazardly after her. She presses into the ceiling, pushing off to send herself arching a fist of fire towards Powerman's chest.

He dodges again, twisting like a piece of wire, and wraps a large hand around her leg. She gives a squeak of surprise when he pulls her back, holding her upside down by her leg and smiling in victory, before he groans as her other foot plants itself securely against his cheek, forcing him to let her go. She drops to the floor and bolts like she was born to run, and when she's a far enough distance away, the flames across her arms burn brighter, and she's throwing fireballs towards the dark-skinned teenager. But her jaw slackens like a store window when he walks through the heat like it's water.

She turns towards her team across the room, eyes widen. "Oh for - he has _impenetrable skin!_ Does the universe hate me!?"

Rouge ignores the way the Ultimates snicker slightly along with Shark, and she bounces back when Powerman throws a large fist towards her stomach, hovering just above him in the air. He smirks under the sunglasses, pulling back when she throws another flame ball towards him. "Turn up the temperature a little," he taunts, gripping the fluttering end of her ponytail so that's she's pulled back down to earth. "It's a little chilly in here."

"For you," she answers, fist landing squarely in his stomach, but he only bends slightly but nonetheless, releasing her - but not before a swift jab to the ribs. A shocked, squeaked gasp pulls itself forcefully from her chest and her hand folds over the damaged area. She hits the ground, hands fisting into the metal and Powerman pauses over her when she shudders a breath from her lungs.

"W-Whoa, you okay? I-I couldn't have hit you that hard, I pulled back, I didn't -"

"First rule: never pull back," says the blond, holding a hand out for him to take and pull her up - and he's so careful with her hands, she's almost moved by the sudden care this giant displays, "And don't worry about it; my bone structure isn't exactly what you'd call sturdy. Not your fault. I yield." The girl from before, arms licking flames and eyes narrowed like ice is no longer there, but the timid girl that had tucked herself behind Shark is suddenly all he can see. But she's warmer now, as if the flames had melted some of the ice she'd held towards their team.

When they return back to their respective positions, the Ultimates are allowed to choose their opponent. Tiger is immediately up, stretching her arms and pulling Iron Fist alongside her, picking their opponent next. Stalker pushes out Lux, who growls in annoyance before sidling up to the center of the room, and as she did so, she threw out her fingers and four knives appeared floating above her hand. They slipped between her fingers like puzzle pieces, and the Latina gave a wide, reckless smirk.

"Looks like I'm the one that's picking up the slack, huh, Rouge?"

Rouge snorts behind her hand and Tiger narrows her eyes. "Don't be so sure about that."

"Never doubt your opponents before they throw the first punch," comments Iron Fist, hands folding like origami cranes in skin and Lux only tweaks her lips into a smirk as she readies her battle stance. There's a pregnant pause that stretches like war-room wire between them, before a harsh yell cracks the silence like a bullet and Lux is throwing her torso forwards, knives made of light sending daggered teeth towards the white and yellow-and-green superheroes.

However, Iron Fist and White Tiger are ready and prepared, and a few seconds pass before Tiger launches herself at Iron Fist, feet first into his waiting hands, flipping her out of the way of the knives and propelling him out of their path by the velocity given. They plunge into the wall behind them and Tiger flexes the claws on her fingers, relaxing when Lux gives an annoyed sigh. She rolls her shoulders in slight anger at her missed targets, turning to glare at Rouge when her laughter gets louder.

But she's aware of her surroundings, as Iron Fist battles forward, trademark fists biting through the air with the yellow chi and instantly, Lux is bending backwards into a backwards handspring, over and over, narrowly missing each punch until the wall is against her back and Iron Fist misses her head slightly and sends a hold into the wall. Her smirk widens, and gently, she cards her fingers through the loose strands that slide across his shoulders. She can see the downwards turn of his mouth, the scrunch of confusion that knits itself between his eyebrows beneath the mask and it only pushes her glee higher.

"You're good with your hands, Blondie," she remarks, and Iron Fist only has a moment to harden his features before suddenly, she drops from view, bending at impossible angles until she's sliding under Iron Fist and hooking her arms around his shoulders in moments from behind. "But I'm good with the rest of my body," and his legs are swept under himself, making him land on his back to stare up at the brunette, who grinned in triumph.

It was cut short as Tiger soon took the reigns, swiping her claws in deadly arches and her legs make contact with Lux's chin, and the girl growls through the pain when she hits the floor. It continues like this, until one moment, Lux is between the two heroes that sprint towards her at different points and the next, she's projecting herself off of Tiger's shoulders and she pulls the girl in a circle, connecting her with Iron Fist and the two tumble like broken crates. Her loud victory whoop ends the challenge and Lux bows towards her team when they cheer.

"Probably should have taken the big guy when I could have if I could beat you two," she calls over her shoulder, ignoring the proverb about strength from Iron Fist.

However, she stops short at Tiger's words, features falling slightly until she pins them back into place. "I _really_ don't like you."

"Feeling's mutual, kitten."

"Enough," barks Stalker, approaching Lux and gripping her around the top of her arm. Lux naturally goes to bare her teeth against the elder girl, but she backs down when she can see the visible down turn of the black-clad girl's eyebrows. She sighs and retreats back to her space, dropping unceremoniously against the wall like a tantrum giving child. Stalker turns to the other team, sincerity leaking across her words. "I apologize for her attitude; she's sort of a risk taker. But I do believe it's _our_ turn."

Spiderman, from his space next to White Tiger, massaging the small of her back when she subtly takes a place beside him - an unwritten need for touch, he's found, in the two years they've been together - nods, distracted by the embarrassed look that sits in every line of her. So he doesn't see the way Bolt bounces up and holds out a hand to the other brunette female in the group, tucked higher on a ledge broken into the wall by training years.

Tempest stares at his hand for a moment, and when he gives her a wide grin, bursting with one-sided friendliness when Nova seems to ruffle a little bit, she glides down without taking his hand and walks to the center of the room. He gives a bark of laughter and joins her, stepping back a few feet. He dances his curled fingers in front of him, as if looking for the air to breathe in the room. "So what's your power? I mean, you're not entirely helpless, are you?" When she doesn't answer him, he hums low in his throat. "Not much of a talker either, sweetheart?"

"I'm not very sweet either," she murmurs, low enough that he strains forwards slightly towards her and gains a punch to the face. A short chorus of 'ohh' follows the smack and he glides back away from her when she tries to hit him again. Although, his outgoing personality beams bright when he grins around a bruised bottom lip.

"I wouldn't say you are; you're stronger than you look," he says, and he jumps forwards to send a well-placed punch to her abdomen, and when she bends, uppercuts her in the jaw. He dials down a little bit when he see's Nova's energy flare a little darker, taking on an angry navy blue and a few moments of fighting pass until he finds the courage to speak in his lungs once again. "So really, what's your power? I'm trying to guess, but I know it's not super-strength like your buddy over there since you don't... _look_ the part, no offence."

Between her gasps of breath, Tempest shrugs. "Guess a little harder."

"I _like_ you," he says, and his grin widens more when she laughs slightly, and he pulls back when she kicks her leg out in a round-house kick, "it's not fire is it, cause that would be totally awkward for you and Rouge to talk about."

"Bolt, stop talking and start fighting!" Yells Shark over the clatter of bruised skin and bloodied knuckles. Bolt pauses, and his smile widens, taking on a more warrior tilt as he nods. The outgoing personality is still there, but the force he'd retracted on his punches comes back tenfold, and Tempest can feel her skin splitting at the seams. Then, when she shows her powers, as the anxiety of the sudden shift in his attacks hits her chest, he continues with the onslaught, even when she uses everything she has.

It's moments later, when she's shot a sharpened piece of air towards his shoulder and caught him slightly, blood oozing across the yellow and blue of his costume, his smile slips slightly when he see's the disappointment in his team's shoulders. So he turns towards her, holds out a hand crackling with electricity and he shrugs. "Sorry kid, gotta set an example for you guys."

She doesn't hear him, so she throws out another blast of air that, while cutting him across the stomach and sending him to the ground, dances his electricity off of his fingers like an extension of himself, an arm that crawls along the scattered body of her air and she only notices when the blue light punches her square in the chest. It arches and crawls along every crevice, far more painful than the electrified jabs that had hit her. She gives a screech of pain, hitting the ground and she scratches at her skin, the static burning at her tanned skin.

He huffs a breath, pained from the cut across his stomach but slight guilt crosses his chest in an 'x' when instantly, Nova is pulling her up into his arms and murmuring close to her, as if his words will get the pain to stop - but Bolt knows it won't. So he doesn't flinch, when he's walking away and the angered fire in Nova's throat hits the air.

"What the hell, you asshole! You just electrocuted her and you're not gonna say sorry!"

"Hey, no-one said I couldn't electrocute someone, besides it's -" but his voice closes around the words when he turns back to continue his point, when he can see the crumpled form of Tempest and the red that bends itself over her arms. His brows turn down in confusion, as Iron Fist presses a glowing hand over her blistered skin and he stares at his own hands. He'd held back, he hadn't thrown that much into it, had he? He can feel the anger from Nova's glare from behind his helmet. "I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't -"

"Perhaps now's the time to take a break," Stalker's hand shoots out in front of him, a bar to the collection of heroes that crowd around the brunette, who tries to push herself from the cosmic heroes hands to stand on her own - a physical barrier to stop from caring about the brunette. "And maybe talk battle plans later."

"Yeah," hums Spiderman, voice a despondent note as Bolt flinches under the glare from behind white paneled eyes, directed straight towards his own helmet. "Yeah, maybe."


	3. disculparse

**_[noted]:_**

Wow, so last chapter showed us what a few of the heroes fighting method's are - Rouge's is surprising strength, Lux is completely cocky in the best way possible and Bolt just wants to have fun but can end a battle - literally, that chapter ending was not expected not even by me, I honestly just went with it. Also, I apologize to the authors whose characters didn't really get their little chance in the spotlight, but I assure you, there'll be more of them.

Moreover, go to the comments and tell me what you think of the last ending and what you think of this chapter cause this one's more development than action - sorry action lovers! Anyways, jump down there and leave a little something cause you know how much I love those things. Also, as a heads-up, I'll be updating every Sunday, though this story might have a bit more lag than Volatile.

KingKatsu: how on earth did you guess this like, twenty minutes after I posted chapter three? You're on fire.

DarkRed101: I'm not sure if I'm doing OC pairings, but I'd have to talk to the respective authors about that because technically, I am writing _their_ characters and it wouldn't be fair to spring this upon them with no heads-up. But, if authors do want an OC pairing with another OC, I'd be glad to contact the other author and ask them for their opinion and see if I can work it in if both agree.

Guest: no, she's not hurt badly - if she can stand to be touched, it's mostly something minor compared to what Bolt _could_ have done.

* * *

 **[ chapter three ]**

 _ **disculparse**_

Translation - apologize

Appropriation - " _Yo...yo quería disculparse por lo de antes._ "

* * *

"That freaking...I'm not gonna swear around you, but for god's -"

"Hey," her hand is soft and warm on his arm from where he leans over the chair onto the hospital bed when she places it there, and brown eyes are staring at him with the softness that has been bred from years of loneliness and cruelty and it has only made her kind. His anger eases slightly when Tempest smiles at him and when she pulls back, he shuffles the chair closer. "I'm fine, okay? Look, all I have to do is just have to rub this salve on and I'll be good, Iron Fist even helped with -"

But her words are cut to a close, when Nova's mouth slots over hers and Tempest instantly responds, hooking an elbow around the back of his shoulders and shrugging the helmet off of his head. His hand digs into her hair for a moment, keeping her hostage for a blessed second but she doesn't seem to mind. The kiss descends into laughter when he tries to snatch his helmet back, missing prematurely and settling for kissing her again before dropping back into his seat. "Shut up, okay? That asshole hurt you."

"I thought you said you wouldn't swear around me."

"Whoops, I'll put a nickle in the swear jar when you get out of here," he said, sneakily folding her hands off of the dome of his helmet and placing it back over his mess of dark hair. She whined at the action through her laughter and Nova's face split into a pleased grin. Her eyes rolled like marbles and she turned back towards the salve that was half-spread across the burns on her arms, but as she molds it into her skin, there's the tell-tale sound of a door opening.

Their heads snap upwards and Nova's on his feet before Tempest can blink, arm arching slightly around the space she occupies when he can make out the figure at the door. Shark slides through the door, hips swinging with a playful attitude that cuts against the drear that marks the hospital room with iron arms that arch over the ceiling and teeth made of bed sheets. They sit in the gullet of the hospital's mouth, and Tempest swallows deeply when Shark raises his arms to cross at the nape of his neck.

"They said you'd be here," he comments, looking around the cosmic hero to connect his eyes with Tempest's, brown meeting in the middle and his smile widens - though there's a curve to the edge that betrays something, and Tempest, for the life of her, can't decode it. "Bolt really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"No thanks to you," chews out Nova, yet his fists soften slightly when Tempest pats his arm. Shark raises a brow, unhooking his fish-hook arms and he stands a few feet away from Nova, warily watching every step he makes so he doesn't step on any trap doors that will drop him into a yelling match.

"Easy Sparky, not my fault Bolt didn't hold back."

"He's _your_ teammate!"

"And she's yours," Shark shrugs a shoulder towards Tempest, who flinches under the accusation like glass has picked at her skin, pulling it apart and letting the words damage her insides. Shark notices, and for all his jovial personality traits, stays still in his accusations. "Or something more, I don't even know. But I didn't come to argue."

The dark-haired boy steps forwards, hesitation like ellipsis in his toes, and Nova overshadows her even more at the action. He sighs around his irritation, and holds his hands like white flags to the enemy. "I said I didn't come to argue."

"And how can I trust that?"

"Well, for one, your little girlfriend seems far more open to me sitting down since she's trying to get your attention," and when Nova turns, the statement's true - Tempest is scraping herself from beneath the blankets, ushering Shark over with one hand whilst holding herself up with the other. Nova's mouth turns down at the action, and he subtly steps aside, all the while keeping a keen eye on the boy. Shark swallows around his words, and joins Tempest, sitting on the bed opposite hers. Whilst she tucks her legs into a lotus position, Shark is straight-backed and staring forwards in a room he should be more than used to being in.

"D-Do you have any water?" His once-confident stature seems to crumble around his words, disintegrating as he, almost shyly, looks towards the helmeted Hispanic boy. Nova stills, before retrieving a bottle of water off of Tempest's sheets, tossing it towards him. Shark catches it on instinct and leans forwards, collecting Tempest's arm like broken puzzle pieces between his fingers, even if she hesitates. He unscrews the water bottle and slowly, like puppeteer strings are tied around his bones, uses a pulling motion at the neck of the bottle. It vibrates, as if shaken by a force no one else felt until, he starts to draw it out when a circle of water hangs in the air, turning twice before it touches down on Tempest's skin. She hisses slightly at the pain of sizzled skin mixing with the tranquility of water, and Shark flinches before flattening it out like a sheet of paper, so that it arched up her arm and covered all visible areas of the burn wound.

It sunk into her skin, leaving nothing behind - no droplets of water and no burn marks. The wonder in her eyes bled into a smile, digging her cheeks upwards as she flexed her muscles, finding no stabbing pain in her biceps when they moved. Looking up, Shark was pulling her other arm towards him to repeat the action and as he mulls over it, he coughs around the hesitation in his chest. "We aren't _bad_ people," he starts, looking up to meet inquisitive brown eyes, staring at his handiwork, "And, we aren't good. We're just people. But Bolt, he's...he's just so inherently good, so I can say, with full honesty, that he didn't mean it. He would never hurt you on purpose."

Tempest slaps Nova's arm when he snorts, and she turns to Shark, and he's startled. The complete understanding and openness that sits in the curve of her cheeks is strange - yes, he's seen understanding in the kindly bend of an old man's arms when he pulled him into his home years ago, but she doesn't know him. Has no idea if he's speaking with honesty crackling in his lungs and still, she looks at him as if he has nothing to apologize for.

His thoughts are cut off when the sound of the door opening again, and it's as if a bell has been rung for his entrance, when Bolt pushes through the threshold, nervously circling his fingers around each other like bumbling, orbiting planets, soon to collapse against each other when he see's the circle that's gathered.

Slowly, his footsteps echo like falling rocks and he approaches the bed, dropping gingerly beside Shark, who has once regained his laid-back stature in the return of his teammate; Tempest narrows her eyes at this, the sudden flip of character in different presences, but says nothing. Beneath the visor that sits over his head, they can see the way he chews at his bottom lip in anxiety, a trait they don't know if he's discovered yet.

"I...I wanted to apologize for earlier."

He pauses around his voice, wondering where it's disappeared to inside his body from where he stood outside the door a few moments ago. It's not in the creak of his knees that remind him of broken haunted houses on days when the world is far too shallow, but somehow, it's slipped into his hands as they jitter and jump like insects on his lap and they still when he peers up.

Tempest is leaning forwards, hand outstretched like an open invitation that he doesn't know is for him and her lips are turned in the slightest smile, somehow picking up his own with rocks at the corners, to hold it firmly in place. He can see the pride pulling itself from Nova's body at the action and the faint, mild surprise from Shark when Bolt slides his hands around her small ones, shaking it.

"My name's T-Tempest, if y-you wanted to know," and she isn't incredibly perfect herself, as she stumbles over her fear of touch to try and let this foreign boy know that she's fine, that he doesn't have to stumble himself over apologies when she knows how hard it is to control powers that seem to leak from every part of you, bidden or not. His lips part at her, as if to say his own name, but she beats him too it. "And yours is Bolt, I-I know that much. But you don't have to apologize, I'm fine."

"I-I didn't mean too -"

"She knows," comments Nova, and Tempest smiles at the effort he displays for her - his usual cheery nature is hidden under his dislike for the electricity bearer, but he pushes past it to ease the boys tidal wave of worry. He relaxes further, his shoulders untightening when her fingers slip under his on the hospital bed when she sits back. "We both know, you don't have to worry."

They can see the physical effect on the boy as his own body unwinds, uncurling the fear and guilt in limitless thread and, although he knows it won't end for a while, he's glad that it's not so tight around his drawstring heart. But something tugs at him further and slowly, his hands pull up towards the circular helmet that hides his features and pulls it off with a slide, sitting it in his lap and leaning forwards on it. Blue eyes stare at them both in slight sharp wonder, blonde hair messed long on the top of his angular features. "But I feel bad. So, yeah...this is me. My name's Lucas Schultz."

He slides his eyes over towards Shark, who pauses around the edges and releases his leg that he's pulled up towards his chest with a slight, whiny toss. "Seriously, do I have too?" When he's met with silence, the shark-themed hero gives a tug of his lips and pulls the diamond shaped black mask from his features, ruffling his hair free from the headband. The same brown eyes greet them, with black spikes falling over arched black brows. His skin is pale and slight freckles sit over the bridge of his nose. "Vance Oliver."

There's a pause between the four before a unanimous decision is made and surprisingly, it's Nova pulling off his blackened Nova helmet, black hair styled messily due to the pressure of the helmet and green eyes blinking away some loose strands, though his hostility is gone to receive this secret of theirs. Beside him, Tempest shrugs off her own blue bandanna, scratching at the bridge of her nose idly. "Sam Alexander."

Tempest chews on the edges of a nervous smile. "Actually...I don't have much of an alias to give you, if any. So I just go by Tempest."

Bolt pulls his helmet back on as they all stand, but she can feel the wave of curiosity press against her chest like a wave of water or a spark of electricity. But his nervousness is gone as he approaches her side as they move to leave the hospital room, after Tempest signs herself out. "Why don't you have a secret identity?"

"That's a story for another time, Bolt," presses Nova, subtly humming that he shouldn't ask. She doesn't miss the narrowed gaze of Shark beneath his black diamond mask, the way his mouth turns down as he stares at the brunette and she ruffles it off, but tucks it into her chest to ask about another day. She hooks the bandanna around her eyes once more and the hospital room door slides shut behind them all.

* * *

The world is dark around the edges when the doors to the briefing room open. Static light bleeds godlike onto the table top, half-silhouetting a sunken in figure, shoulders pulling at the threads of sleep as her fingers tap a tune across the smattering of files around the head of the desk. They're tossed across the surface like broken toys, flicked open to blocks of text and pictures and diagrams.

The one beneath her fingers is the thickest, telling exploits and legends of a life made in running and hiding, until two years ago, the girl was found by SHIELD. It details the day, now set in history for New York City, when the Triskellion fell and the world believed SHIELD was desecrated by a terrorist group. She wants to snort at the assumption - the group was minuscule compared to others she's seen.

"Stalker."

Neither twitch at the new sound that crackles through the room like electricity in the airwaves, and Stalker only peers up, red eye panels blinking away exhaustion like she's been taught. Her body straightens, as the presence of the person sits down beside her, glancing over the mess of files.

" _Angela_ , it's late."

"Which means what?" She glances up at her Latina teammate, bare without her superhero costume is a pair of loose pajamas for the night. Across her left shoulder, falling down, she can see a thick blanket that she must have carried with her towards the briefing room. It's childish and silent, but Stalker says none of it, because she knows that Lux will see it as failure and Lux hates failures.

The Latina sighs, tucking up her knees and glancing over the file briefly, seething slightly at the width. But she peers back, smirking like she knows every secret suddenly and it bristles the leader's skin. "...You remember Vermont? And Connecticut?"

It's the only time she tenses, paused like her toes were threatening to slip off a buildings edge. Then, she's flicking the page again, as if the moment of weakness was just a stutter in her chest. "Please don't talk about this, especially at this time of night. This isn't -"

" _Do you remember?_ "

The blanket's fallen off of her shoulders. The sleep in her eyes has melted into the fear that wraps iron claws around both their chests as the words are spoken slowly. Lux, for all her brash-ness and tough attitude, is probably the most sensitive of Paradox 13 - Stalker knows, as both her teammate and how her hand shakes with it's grip on the table. Thank God the only light present is artificial, or else knives would find themselves in the ceiling.

Stalker closes the folder and pushes it to the side, waiting a moment for Lux's chest to stop humming with fear, for her lungs to deflate slower as she fears the brunette may edge into a panic attack if she keeps remembering. And yet, Stalker can taste the fear on her tongue. The anger. The loss. It threatens her emotions, and she can feel the darkness in the absence of the light curl around her toes. Yes, there may be no light for Lux to make knives from but darkness is far more dangerous to Stalker. Night and Day have never been so torn.

The dark-clothed girl nods, silent and gentle compared to her companion who folds back into herself, calming her breathing and closing her eyes as the exhaustion folds itself like a cape across her shoulders, clipped tightly. "G-Good. I thought, since, we don't get on...you'd forget. That you didn't care."

"I'm the leader of this team - I would never forget."

"But are you my friend?"

The question takes Stalker by surprise, and in her pause, Lux takes her answer like a pill and stands, pulling the thick blanket around her shoulders again and gathering the files on the Ultimates and pulling them into her arms. She doesn't look Stalker in the eye, eyes downcast to her feet. But somehow, noise filters back and Stalker can hear the music from the headphones that perpetually hang around Lux's neck and the cough that disguises her disappointment.

"Layla, I -"

"Don't worry, I got my answer anyway from back then," she says, and a memory filtered in static and fuzz bleeds it's way into existence, remembering how she'd asked a question once and the horrid answer that followed days later. Lux gestured towards the files in her arms, stacked and thick and telling stories that Lux doesn't know, that Lux hasn't read but there's more emotion tied to them than Stalker will ever allow herself to feel. "If you're the leader, than make sure these guys never know that answer while we're in this with them."

The world goes quiet when she leaves. It turns dark around the edges. Sleep finally lets Stalker disappear inside of it for a while, and for once, she feels alone in the dark.


	4. táctica

**_[noted]:_**

Here's chapter four for you guys! Hope you liked the last one, since we learnt both the identities of Shark and Bolt (Or Vance and Lucas) and had a little bit of a heart to heart and character development. This one is about tactical analysis and battle plans and maybe we'll finally get to meet the other characters!

Surely, you guys have guessed by now that Esoteric is the team that SHIELD has identified as terrorists, right? If you haven't, no worries, but there might be more to what they really are.

KingKatsu: I'm not sure, since I actually haven't written that far, but it's a really cool idea! Might do it. Can any of you tell I'm winging this?  
HellDevil13: there may have been a bit of fairy dust involved, especially since I was tweaking it when you commented so yeah, there's a little bit of magic.

* * *

 **[ chapter four ]**

 _ **táctica**_

Translation - tactics

Appropriation - " _vamos a hablar tácticas_."

* * *

The room is full to the brim, like an overflowing water bottle as Spiderman and Nova fight over the last remaining seat in the room near the head of the table, where Stalker sits gingerly going over files; behind her, against the wall is Rouge, talking shyly with Iron Fist over a topic lost in the noise, like static in a loud room. Tiger swings her legs off of the side from where she sits talking to Powerman, with Tempest tucked against his side to steady the tsunami that rises in her chest at the close contact in the room with strangers. Shark has taken refuge with Lux in a pair of chairs and Bolt is staring at his phone under the table, ignoring the conversation in favor of tapping aggressively at his screen.

There's a sudden stillness in the room when Stalker rises, a swan in her bones and a soldier in her blood as she retracts a chip from one of the files, digging it into the side of the table, which flares up a case file with blocks of text and image attachments on a holographic screen, much like how Nick Fury introduced Paradox 13 to the Ultimates. Even now, he's watching through a camera in the corner of the room and in the handle of the mug Spiderman sips out of reading 'World's best Animal!'. "I'm sure you Ultimates have heard of the recent attacks in small towns that have spread in a correlated pattern, hm?"

She looks down towards the other teenagers, and Spiderman hums a despondent tone in his chest, annoyed at the insinuation, but nonetheless, puts down his mug and sits forwards against where he leans on the wall, rolling down his mask. "Uh, can't say we have. Mind relaying it back?"

He bristles at the aggravated sigh, before she taps across the tabletop to pull up a map, which settles in onto a small square of land. Suddenly, an eruption of dots explodes on the screen, and it continues in a pattern until it almost runs out of the square of land. "Recently, there have been coordinated attacks correlating to known laboratories and research centers in small towns, but it's escalated," her fingers tap again, and another plot of familiar land shows up. New York. "They've moved onto big cities, and bigger countries. London, Paris, Hong Kong - to name a few."

"Wait, I actually heard about this," Tiger leans forwards on her wrists like an engaged child into the teacher's words, her fingers tapping idly against the backs of her knuckles. "They called them a rebel faction, a group of terrorists set out to destroy a certain company that's been known to kill off...well, _targets_ in other countries by creating bio-hazards and poisons, as well as to liberate a few things from their _'mirage collection'_ as they call it."

Stalker hums her praise, and leaning forwards, spreads the map wider, until it shows a tail of connected cities and towns across the globe that coincide with the bloody-red dots. "Yes, and we've tracked a small part of the faction to New York, where they're planning to conduct another attack on the citizens themselves. We've come into contact once before, but it...didn't end well."

They don't miss the way Stalker's voice falters, or the way Lux's brows turn down like fallen leaves and she turns away, crossing her arms and staring at the door to avoid the looks thrown her way. Stalker coughs and pulls the attention back to herself, albeit however hard. "They're just children, around our ages, but that doesn't excuse their actions. They've gone to all measures to go undetected - fake passports, they pay for their gear with cash so there's no paper trail and use online forums to discuss with other parts of the factions."

"How'd you figure _that_ out, the last part?" chides Nova, having gained a seat and leaning back into it gleefully.

"Most mob bosses and criminals of lower status use them to communicate, since they're unmonitored and usually hardly frequented in favor for more popular social networking sites," an example image is pulled up, talking of a 'lost puppy' and 'needed collar.' Somehow, these words are synonymous with 'target' and 'needed weaponry.' Stalker leans on a hip, red paneled eyes turned downwards. "We didn't intercept this particular post until it was, unfortunately, too late. But, we've contacted a recent post put up by the group we've been tracking."

Another post pulls up on a different website, talking of a need of transport in central park, and a reply documenting it will be there by six o'clock in the afternoon in two days. The first poster replies back, saying there's a need of certain items that the chauffeur of the car will need to bring: mints, blankets and rags. The driver responds and asks how many people will be joining, and the poster replies an indefinite number yet. The forum ends there and Tempest has already decoded the meaning behind the words, sickness piercing her stomach like a hot needle.

"If you've worked it out, you'll know that there's going to be a drop off in Central park of weapons, gas masks and most likely holding equipment at six o'clock by Friday. But, we don't know if this team of terrorists will be conducting the terror attack in central park, due to using the word indefinite, or that they're just receiving, so we'll need to be on high alert."

"It makes sense," murmurs Rouge from beside Stalker, peering up with unseeing blank eyes at the text. She's seen this before, she's dealt with this before - the possibility of death doesn't effect her in the slightest, "to conduct the attack in central park. By that time, tourists are usually there with locals and children are out of school - that would be the ultimatum opportunity to do it, since the tragedy would be devastating and would leave a scorn on New York, much like 9/11."

The entire room drops in temperature as Spiderman nods, pulling from the wall to stand just out of Stalker's range. "These guys seem legit too, as well as reckless - they're doing this in broad daylight, with hundreds of people surrounding them and any one of them could see their faces or remember them."

"Which is why we need to be on alert; so Spiderman's team will -"

Suddenly, there's a beat. A pulse rides through the room when Spiderman pauses, standing straighter than he was before and leveling a look towards the black clad leader of Paradox 13. "Whoa, slow down there, Wednesday Addams," he warns, holding a hand up towards the perplexed leader. Somewhere, someone snorts at the comparison. "Not that I don't respect your methods or your blatant authority, but if there's not mutual respect, there's no teaming up. You don't order my team and we won't order yours."

Stalker pauses, sudden panic lacing her hands together and making them stop on the table top. Guilt rides a current through her stomach and the need to assert her authority to this - this _jokester,_ bleeds a war drum tune in her ears synonymous with the thrum of her blood. But she understands and pulls back on her anger, nodding solemnly. "Yes, of course. I apologize. Now then, let's talk tactics _as a team._ "

Spiderman nods and settles back against his perch against the wall, satisfied. Across the room, Powerman chews on his lip. "So uh, what're these guys called anyways?"

"They're _girls_ , and they're called Esoteric."

* * *

Six o'clock comes around far too fast on Friday, with Spiderman turned Peter Parker wandering through central park, scratching irritably at the comms unit tucked into the curve of his ear and an arm thrown around Tempest's shoulders just beneath his own. He cuts his eyes across the grass, folding them over teenagers lounging lazily and adults pressing through the crowds like beads on a string, tugged from _a_ to _b_.

"Stop messing," hisses Ava through the comms unit, and Peter smirks on instinct, knowing she's watching from a bench across from where he stands, head dipped into a book inconspicuously, "they'll notice if it falls out and they'll run."

"Not my fault the PD's decided to get the ones that don't stay in," he hisses, grinning when Tempest chews on the edges of a smile, before sending his gaze skyward towards the building's that peek like children's hands over the heads of leaves, "Anyways, why aren't they coming to clean up their dirty work?"

"Because they know our faces, dumb-ass."

"Gotcha, fishy. You know, I actually _know_ a fish, not like you and he's a - "

"I am going to slap you if you keep talking, web-head," snaps Sam over the comms, before being barked at to keep the line clear and all chatter ceases, save for someone's stifled cackle hidden in the static. Peter huffs and pats Tempest's shoulder, alerting her attention up towards him from under a bandanna.

He chokes back laughter at her outfit, as having to remain inconspicuous, she'd had to dress in clothes that hid any remnants of her physique - which resulted in a baggy sweatshirt that dragged around her knees and jeans that seemed to scrape the floor, as well as a bandanna that pulled back her hair in a scraggly way. Of course, he wasn't much different in his attire as they fell beside each other on the grass, the shorter brunette instantly pulling up grass in her hands to distract herself from the jitters in her chest. Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the innocent hope that pulls at her skin. They'd been paired together since they seemed the most inconspicuous out of the entire group, and he ruffles her hair when she moves to look for Sam somewhere in the tidal wave of bodies.

"So, what're we looking for?"

Tempest's brow pulls down, as well as her knees to her chest, as her eyes tug themselves around the park. The center is alive and bustling, filled with loud noise and she dodges a football that flies past her head with a chuckle. "Well, we know it's a team of teenage girls, and they said there'd be an indefinite number. The contact never described themselves, so we're going out on a limb here to say there's going to be a gaggle of girls around one part of the park. Most likely, it'll be a brief drop off and they'll either be quiet enough to avoid detection or be smart and be boisterous and loud enough that people will just write them off as stereotypical teenagers."

"Oh god, not stereotypes - our only weakness."

She stuffs a laugh into the folded over cuffs of her sweatshirt, folding against Peter as if they were in a relationship, as to allude to most that they were. Tucking into their designed disguises efficiently, Peter followed the act, tossing an arm off her shoulders, although hanging it slightly, eyes darting to Ava to send her a positive smile when the pages of her book crinkled slightly from force. "If we're going with that, then they won't be wearing disguises. They'll fit right in."

"He's our best bet," she whispers, moving to point to a corner of the wide stretch of land and pushing her hand back into her hair, as if to flick some out of her face, but Peter catches the hint between his teeth. Across the fields, beneath a tree, a teenager sits with a cigarette hanging like a tight-rope walker between his lips. A thick jacket hangs over his spindly frame, and thick, red-dyed-brown hair peeks from beneath his hood. Between his feet, hanging like a limp body over the worn-down trainers, is a thick duffel bag. He snuffs out the cigarette on the grass with a swan in his fingers, a dancer in his toes and he shifts the bag over his shoulder before sliding against the tree.

Peter swipes a hand through his hair, leaning on it and ultimately, pressing the comms unit further into his ear. "Everyone got a visual on Red Apple at six o'clock, niner-niner."

"What the heck are you saying?"

On the comms, Bolt sighs. "He's saying, look at the red head opposite them. Suspicious activity."

"Be ready. It's just hit six, guys." The command is like a bullet that worms it's way down all their spines, ripping through the humor in return for sharp eyes and tentative toes ready to run. It's a few minutes before the red head pulls from the tree, sleeves rattling like teeth in the wind when a figure parts through the crowd and walks towards him. There's a thick jacket hung over her own figure, as if her bones are only pegs for it to grasp and her head is bowed beneath a hood. There's a bundle tucked between her arms, thick and lumpy that it's unidentifiable and held close to her chest in the crooks of her arms.

"Keep on them," grounds Stalker, and the tremors belt through Peter's stomach like earthquakes had shook his bones, but there's no spidey sense. There's no danger. As he moves to whisper it through the comms, they both move.

The girl tucks her fingers, thin and broken apart by the knots of her joints and the red head pulls the hood off his face, slanted eyes staring down towards the bundle in the girls arms. He pulls the blanket apart, like an envelope, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Something like sympathy, even though they're terrorists and they're hurting people and there are bombs in their grasp - he can see the worry that pulls their pale skin tight, the bones that show from nights of running. And of all these things, they're _kids_ and the red head tucks the bundle back up, shifting the bag higher on the girl's shoulder.

"Intercept once they leave the park, away from civilians. If not, engage with extreme force."

Peter wants to bark back to wait, to think before they move, but he's far too pre-occupied with the way the boy takes the girl's face, even though she flinches back extremely, between his fingers. He presses their foreheads together and though his mouth doesn't move, something unanimous slips between them, something whole and gentle that Peter doesn't recognize.

"Are...are they siblings?" whispers Tempest, mostly to herself as nostalgia picks it's teeth over her chest, the way her heart thrums when she remembers a life that was never hers, filled with friends that felt like siblings, cousin's that felt too big too be anything but. Yet, even though the illusion of relatives is still not ruined when the boy gives her a hug and a sharp nod, much like a conditioned soldier, her chest fractures slightly anyway when the red head pulls away and marches across the field, immediately out of sight and gone.

Their gaze remains on the girl, who pauses like time hits stop in her heart before she shakes herself back into existence. She shifts the bundle, gentle and sweet, between her fingers and turns, moving to the mouth of the park.

"Spiderman, Tempest, Powerman - intercept, _now._ "

"What did we talk about, miss black heart?"

He smirks at the growl that pushes through the comms, although he stands. "Intercept now, _please._ "

Tempest is already in front of him, sneakers lazily kicking themselves off of her feet as she walks, and he can see Luke through the trees, where the girl is heading. It's sudden, but he see's it as quick as it was. The girl pauses, falters like static is hissing in her throat when she looks up and suddenly, her body vanishes. Peter pauses, Tempest rears back from the empty space of air and he can see across the park the confusion that blasts itself across Luke's features.

The African-American teen rubs a hand over his face, catching a look at his wrist where a watch lies dormant. His brows rise. "Guys...wasn't it six fifteen just now?"

"Yeah, wh - oh no." Something bites into Shark's words, something that makes him throw his comms as the clatter rings through everyone's ears.

"It's six seventeen."

"There! I see her, heading north east, towards Nova," snarls Lux, and there's a a smattering of a clearing that provides a wide mouth that shows the fluttering jacket and the bouncing duffel bag. Immediately, the group flings into action, with Nova just missing the girl as he grabs at her jacket. Ava joins his side when they begin running and somewhere, Lux pulls herself out of the shadows, pushing through people with determination rattling her veins like a war drum.

She bursts out into the street, like a scream from a dormant throat and cars blare horns like bombs, making her flinch back and away from, almost making her fall. But she pulls and frays at her balance, gliding across the street with Sam, Ava and Lux on her tail. The others have dispersed, Tempest and Rouge climbing higher and higher into the air, Spiderman is web slinging and the others are following on foot or, in Stalker's case, shadows.

The chase turns them to a darker part of New York, near the docks where the water laps uneasy and the world turns to crumbling brick and boarded up windows. They're changed into their costumes that were hidden beneath layers of clothing, and soon, they can almost touch her as she runs.

"Stutter!" screeches Stalker as she throws herself out of the shadows at her, missing her gently. A soft cry sounds from the girl, but it seems too child-like for her. But the missed action gives Stalker a chance to grab at the duffel bag. It falls from Stutter's grasp,spinning the girl until she lands on her hands and knees on the floor. Her hood's fallen off, displaying gaunt, sunken in cheeks and raggedy blond hair, knotted around her shoulders. Fear splits her grey-blue eyes wide and she scrambles towards the bag, bouncing back only when Bolt sends a spark of electricity towards her, making her rear back as if it actually _had_ touched her. A loud cry, a _baby_ , bursts from between her arms. She doesn't try to silence it, she can't - Paradox 13 are battling forwards, all whilst the Ultimates stare in horror.

But before they reach her, Stutter worries her lip between her teeth, folds her fright against her chest and throws the only remaining hand up she has. There's tears pouring down her cheeks when she screams. "Stop, _please!_ "

Suddenly, she's gone. No-one laughs at the way Shark trips over the empty space with Bolt landing across his back, but there's remnants of her and the child she'd held on the ground. A scattering scarf, darkened wood from where she'd cried and of course, the tossed duffel bag.

"She got away - again!" Lux bites into her words with anger, kicking a foot against the ground when she realizes she's long gone, without the slow threading of a crowd to slow her down. Even though she arches high above the crates, she can't catch a glimpse of the blond.

Behind them, Iron Fist crouches, with hands like glass as he pulls apart the ripped mouth of the duffel bag, peering inside tentatively with a firm line for a mouth. But his brows turn down, and his mouth parts before digging a hand further into the confines of the bag.

"My friends, I...I don't believe this was a drop-off of weapons."

"Iron Fist, of course it was," answers Shark, approaching the blond as he hangs off of his haunches, "we intercepted and decoded the messages, it has to be."

"Not necessarily," he says, and his hand slips out, cradling a thin bottle between long fingers. Across it, is scrawls of writing and text and accompanied is a bottle of pills with the liquid. He chews on his lip, and shakes his head, almost in disgust. "It's medicine. An entire bag full of pharmaceutical supplies."

"Oh my god...we didn't intercept a weapon drop-off." White Tiger gags around the reality as she stares at the collection of medicine for diseases she's never heard.

"No," he answers, and his grip tightens. "We intercepted a medicine offering; we may have just put the final nail into the coffin for someone, literally."


	5. enfermedad

**_[noted]:_**

So, the plot thickened in the last chapter, didn't it? And we got our first glimpse at one of the Esoteric girls - _Stutter!_ I'm so glad I can finally introduce at least one of the Esoteric kids, it's been such an antagonizing time waiting to finally give one of them their debut. Hopefully, this chapter will clear up any questions you guys have. Also, all the science stuff in this chapter, is all made-up and none of it is real or makes any sense. Whoops.

Also, thank you all again for your lovely comments, faves and follows, as well as the messages in my inbox about the story - and even if you guys ask for early sneak peeks, no deal! Anyways, enjoy this chapter.

 **Fun fact:** Ultimate Spider man was on when I started this.

MoonlightMistBorn: I'm glad you enjoyed it so much ! I adore Stutter and she fits perfectly into this, so thank you for allowing me to use her. There's more Aiden coming up, don't worry.  
Minx98: I'm glad you're enjoying !  
Guest **(1)** : Yeah, and there's more examples in the future.  
Guest **(2)** : i'm not sure what you mean, but if you continue reading, you might find out.

* * *

 **[ chapter five ]**

 ** _enfermedad_**

Translation - disease

Appropriation - " _el virus de la enfermedad fue contrarrestando contra era..._ "

* * *

Doctor Kurt Connors was known for his mind, and a few various other lizard-related escapades a few years ago, but mostly for his mind. Yet, as his eyes pulled and tweaked and prodded at the skeletal structure that was bled onto his computer through megabytes and data, and still, his mind pulled a blank. He'd isolated isotopes, atoms and even the ionic structures and lattices that had woven themselves through the liquid medicine. It was thin, yet could slice through metal if molten; the atom could desecrate areas and lives if split.

He was a smart man - he'd pulled the particles apart, examined them individually and concluded what they were meant for. But once rearranged like puzzle pieces back into their proper places, the structure should have fallen apart. _Should have_. But it stayed completely solid.

He was searching and pulling up files when a few of the teenaged heroes slid into the lab, amongst the bumbling professors and stressed lab assistant's to weave themselves along his area space. The doctor didn't still in his work, until he had to tap Stalker off of one of the benches to retrieve a piece of equipment. It seemed to spark Spiderman's curiosity as he leaned back against a rickety piece of hardware. "So...what's up, Doc?"

"Please don't lean on that, I'm in the middle of repairs."

"Sorry," he amended, pulling his shoulders off of the hardware, before returning his attention, "but really, what's up? It's been a couple of days and I gotta tell you, we're getting antsy. No offence to you or anything."

He sighs around his discomfort, ballooning his uncertainty into his lungs and out into the air around him in one quick swoop of exhaustion. Stars scatter themselves in his words, bleeding out the confusion that usually, he doesn't have. "I'm going as fast as I can; I've tried to distinguish what the medicine counteracts - I've pulled it apart, to the last particle and found it goes against a number of diseases: cancer, leukemia and blood clotting to name a few. But when it's reformed, it shouldn't...it shouldn't work, but it does _._ I can't seem to find the actual disease it's targeting, unless it's... _all_ of them."

They can see the unknown pull through his skin, and White Tiger flinches in instinct at the slight frenzied look that tweaks his eyelids wide. The cat-themed hero rises from her perch, crosses the space in one quick stride and her hand laces careful claws over his shoulder, even if he is a few inches taller. "Doctor Connors, it's okay. You'll figure it out, you always do."

"But jeez, how can someone survive through all that?" Shark sneers slightly in disgust at the thought of going through such suffering, pressing back against a far wall. His face is shadowed by something darker than the shade he's half covered in.

"Fortunately, Fury allowed me to call in some help," answers the doctor, and he's already pulling through the group of teenagers to greet the newcomers that cross the threshold as silent as pins dropping in a loud room. On the far right, is the second tallest of the three, clad in warm red and gold armor that sparks with life as he touches down, pressing through a holographic screen with the face panel pulled upwards. In the middle, with a regal air curving every fold of skin wet from water, is a green-skinned teenager with a smirk on his angular face. Beside him, with hair that's more white than clouds and hands more soft than velvet, is a dark-skinned girl with a plucked smile on her face and a blinded eye. Connors calls them in loudly, and Triton approaches first.

"Triton? A?" speaks Tempest hopefully, as if staring at a dream that's walked into reality. Both boys immediately grin at her, sunlight filtering through every scar their new lives have offered them and all they can see is sunlight. She gives a bright laugh and flings herself into Triton's arms, where he collects the small brunette like puzzle pieces with a fond smile. "Oh my god, it's like you're back from the dead! Ink-hand!"

She switches from the green-skinned mutant and winds her arms around Ink-hand, who smiles warmly as her arms wind around her shoulders. When Tempest pulls away, White Tiger is clutching the girl in a tight hug, murmuring about the new dreadlocks for hair and the scruff on a razored beard on Amadeus' chin. Spiderman pulls the iron-clad boy into a headlock, laughing when he squeals at the action and Triton exchanges pleasantries with Doctor Connors. Ink-hand shrugs a hand through her hair, something at ease in bones built from ice. "It is good to finally be home again, sisters. And Nova."

"Hey!"

Triton huffs a laugh, trying to ignore the girl at his side as she peers up at him for confirmation. "It is good to see you, my friends. We are glad to be working on this project with you."

"We missed you too, fish-boy. How's the solo life treating you guys?"

"It is quite well - we recently intercepted a barge on it's way to Bonnota, to exchange a rare item stolen from a museum. What about you?"

"Eh, we're kinda in the middle of an epidemic. But anyways, _A_ , what about you and SG? She _behaving_?" Amadeus peers up with a shy smile, rolling his eyes as Powerman's eyebrows lift rhythmically over the ridge of his eyebrows. But as the dark-eyed boy moves to answer, when Stalker approaches the middle of the group. There's a set of concrete between her shoulders, a wall of brick across her chest towards the new-comers and immediately, Ink-hand bristles from the action. She's been taught to assess threats for years, and the girl in black is no different.

There's a beat before Stalker, having finished her internal assessment, turns her head to the doctor. "Doctor Connors, I believe we were in the middle of assessing the medicine?"

Doctor Connors jerks, nodding his head and flagging down the arrival of heroes, who follow behind towards the row of tables scattered with medical supplies and microscopes. Immediately, Amadeus is drawn towards where samples of the medicines are gathered, picking one up and inspecting it and swirling the liquid like wine in a glass. Immediately, his face features screw up like discarded paper. "It's pungent, bleeding acidic qualities into the airspace."

Doctor Connors nods. "Yes, I deducted that at the start - I believe that the liquid is meant to dissolve or even completely destroy the toxins that have entered the bloodstream."

"Not just the bloodstream, good doctor," remarks Triton as he peers at the vial caught between Amadeus' metallic fingers, "There are neurotoxins too; I have seen this kind of liquid back in Attilan. May I have a look through the microscope?"

Triton approaches the microscope, slotting a green eye over the neck of the microscope, peering downwards with a noticeable hum. A soft tap on his shoulder automatically moves him, and the Attilan ambassador smiles when the white-haired aura-seer looks into the microscope with her good eye. Her mouth turns downwards slightly, and she looks up, almost shyly, as if favors are still a distant memory of a life un-lived. "May I ask that you put the molecular structure on a screen please?"

Moments later, Ink-hand is ghosting her fingers over the screen, staring as molecules bounce and bump against each other in the liquid. She gathers her courage like mothballs in her chest, wheezing as she breathes. "I studied the molecular structure of atoms back with...with Queen, due to what could effect their anatomy and what could destroy it entirely," there's a song hidden in the words, a story untold only by the shake in her fingers as she remembers the books and texts that told her _'radiation can completely desecrate the composition of a human's anatomy. Any radiation can brutally destroy the molecules of a normal, healthy human.'_ Fear is something bred into her, and she feared her powers so much, she read and read until she knew how to stop them from hurting anyone.

Beside her, Triton laces a hand through hers and the shaking calms and a slight smile pulls at her mouth. However, she doesn't let go as she turns back to the screen, ghosting a hand across a particular part of the screen where an atom and another part of the structure bonds. "These atoms are designed to combat different toxins respectively - some cancer and leukemia, streaming right to tooth decay. But because of their incompatibility, they should be falling apart, but I guess you already knew that, Doctor Connors," the Doctor laughs slightly, answering her question, "But because of this incompatibility, it makes them stronger and the ionic bonds between them strengthen too - sort of like 'opposites attract'. This kind of medicine is meant to combat many diseases, all at once. It's not even recorded in medical history - this medicine or the disease it combats."

"Then it's an entirely new disease," concludes Amadeus, as he looks towards Spiderman for confirmation, who gives a vague shrug, enraptured by the new pursuit of knowledge. A burst of excitement flares in Amadeus' stomach as he turns towards the screen, staring at the sample. "Which _we_ get to name. T-This is absolutely incredible. This could hold the keys to curing cancer, abolishing leukemia forever a -"

"Esoteema."

"What?" The group turns to where Rouge was perched, half leaning against Powerman's arm whilst staring at her hands. The timid girl peers up underneath a few stray locks of hair, teeth sinking into her bottom lip and red blooming wildflowers on her cheeks. Her fingers twitch before shuffling themselves beneath her thighs. "E-Esoteema. You said we get to name it, s-so why not name it after the ones who need it? Esoteric."

There's a pause of confusion between Triton, Ink-hand and Amadeus, but Spiderman waves it off in return to turning his gaze towards Rouge. "Esoteema it is."

"Now," started Powerman, leaning forwards on his knuckles to narrow his gaze towards the bumping particles, "we gotta find out why they needed it so bad."

* * *

The worst thing about the wind in her veins is how it effects her hands. They bleed red with exertion all the way from her fingertips to her wrists, and the coldness they propel is not her own. But it beats strong in her chest when she can feel the groan of the tide against her ears, the wind that presses it's mouth to it's waves and kicks up it's heels towards her. Her feet swing across a few crumbling bricks as she stares out at the ocean, Spiderman pacing behind her with Rouge fluttering somewhere across the edge of the building, scouting for any sight of their targets.

She taps a beat, unbeknownst to her that it's the hum that Nova blows through the comms unit and suddenly, there's a crackle of life in her ear and below her. She watches, with avid curiosity, how there's a sudden tumble of a body onto the docks, how it scrambles and skitters and twists into something out of a fairy-tale - a monster built from fright. Her shoulders lift, her fingers curl. There's something angry beneath the wounds in the girl's chest and the rise of sickness over her ribs that poke through the skin like bars.

There's a predator beneath low pigtails, ripped and cut ragged from years of uncleanliness and the blue headband that pulls her dark hair out of her eyes. Her clothes are a mismatched symphony of shorts and an old t-shirt, sleeve of a borrowed jacket ripped and her nails are curled like she's digging plants out of the ground. As Shark approaches her, confidence playing music in his bones, she pulls back, feet pressing to the jagged teeth of the dock's edge. His smile widens as the water laps at her feet.

"Not smart of _you_ specifically to be near water, right, _thorn bush?_ "

She doesn't flinch at the nickname, but skin, dark like dirt, seems to raise like hackles at the boy with gills across his shoulders. Her tongue, swapped for a language she's learnt on her toes, clips around uncertain words. "Just go! Go _away!_ Leave them alone!"

"Sorry, Rosette. Not gonna happen." White Tiger's learnt the name like a slip of paper, and when she staggers forwards, there's ellipsis shuddering across her skin. There's fear digging it's heels into the base of her spine and she straightens.

"You have friends now, _ja'_? More than your dogs?"

"A lot more, if I'm honest," he remarks, and there's a silent rumble as Spiderman drops behind him, as Nova and Iron Fist's energy spikes through the darkness. There's a tell-tale click of boots, not unlike stampeding hooves, from two different directions and Bolt's energy lights up over his shoulders. And wherever she looks, tucked behind Stalker, Tempest see's her friends - but between them and Rosette, it looks more like a battlefield with a one woman-army fighting against evil. Wherever she looks, she can see villain's tucked in her friends chest and the thoughts scare her - she shouldn't feel like they're the villains in this. They shouldn't be the villains. Is she one by association?

Rosette pauses around the edges, every line of her body going sharp, predators against prey. But the fear in her heart is put on a shelf, on an apple-box shelf, when there's a sneak of feet towards a boarded up window, a closed door that sparks with movement. There's hurried silence between those walls, and when Rouge's body twists to inspect vaguely, there's an explosion across Rosette's heart. Something rattles like scared laughter beneath their feet.

"DON'T. YOU. DARE."

Something cracks, like vines stretched too far beneath their feet, but there can't be any possible plant life there. But somehow, there's a sudden crack of a whip, and something thick and green and wreathed with plants pulls it's way into existence, snapping sharp around someone's throat with a thick gurgle. They're pulled forwards, and Tempest's heart drops through her throat when she can see _Nova's_ legs dangling, _Nova's_ fingers twitching at the vine that's found it's way to cut off his air supply. Beside him, Lux is tangled upside down and her eyes are already closed, already unconscious, the headphones in her ears falling behind her. Somewhere, there's a vibration of rage from Stalker and Spiderman, even though his own hands curl, stops Tempest when her feet finally touch the ground.

"I'll kill them. _Both_ of them," there's something other than a threat there, as she angles a glare at Stalker, and when the shadows pull their way through towards the girl in anger, Spiderman pauses. He throws a hand out towards the two teams, subtly saying 'I'll handle this.'

"Look, flower girl," there's a rare drum of rage that beats in Tempest's chest when she hears the joking matter, even when his own teammate's life is slipping through his fingers. "Look, we just want to talk. We - "

There's a snort of suppressed laughter, and Rosette shakes a brown head of hair. "SHIELD's lackeys never want to talk. They are always looking for fists and bloodshed," Nova chokes on his own lungs and fear spikes Tempest's heart, "perhaps it is time we give it back to them."

"Wait! If you don't wanna talk, then we can give you something back." He holds out a hand, an unconscious action that deposits a thick duffel bag in his hands. There's a loosening of limbs, a gentle untightening of vines as cautiously, the spider-themed hero steps forwards, bag held out like a gift. His hands shake the straps.

"The-The -"

" _Your_ medicine. God knows you guys need it - just _please,_ let them go," he begs, and slowly, when she snatches the duffel bag out of his hands and rifles through, breathing a sigh of relief, the two heroes are pulled out of their constraints. Instantly, Tempest is thrown forwards like a bullet, hooking an arm around the Latino who grips her hand like a lifeline, the other holding him up as he gulps air greedily. Lux is supported against Powerman as he lifts her, unconsciousness bleeding out of every corner.

"Thank you," breathes Spiderman as he turns to make his way over towards the two newly-rescued heroes, but there's something that pushes hostility into the air; behind Rosette, there's a tower of water that spills itself upwards against gravity, against imposing, impossible forces and vaguely, it's shaped like a serial killer's hand. Eyes turn towards Shark, whose fingers look like he's playing harp-strings beside his hip.

Sudden realization threads itself like needles in their chests and Rosette can feel it too as she turns towards the wall of water from the docks, that sends boats tipping on their axis' and her hands throw themselves over her head as the water falls like a fist. Rouge's eyes bleed wide, and unbidden, throws a hand out towards Shark. "Wait, _stop!_ "

But as the water descends, the world falls to pieces. It's like the water has hit a wall that arches over Rosette, and the way it splits apart reminds them of slow motion CGI animation. Thick bubbles of water fall apart and hang in the air, like gravity has been manipulated. They're paused in time for a moment, staring at the world on it's edge before Rosette's eyes glance up, towards somewhere far off and they turn with her.

Behind them, hands held out, shaking like weights are tied to her wrists is a girl, eyes twisted shut with strain, pony-tail hair ripped with paint splattered clothes and beside her is Stutter. Her own name is true when she hesitates on her feet, before shooting forwards. Shadows from Stalker twist towards her, trying to block her path but behind her, the blond throws out gravity manipulation like lifelines. They pause Stalker's attacks and Bolt's electricity arches upwards. Spiderman's webs are thrown to the ground and at one point, he is twisted to an entirely different part of the docks when eh swings to block Stutter as she ducks and weaves through the barrage of heroes.

Her hands find purchase on White Tiger's shoulders, arching over claws and soldier-made rage and landing gently on her feet, she side-steps a punch from a shadow and someone lifts Bolt off his feet into the air when he's dangerously close to sending a jolt of electricity at her. Tempest is on her own feet, throwing out a force-field of air around Nova, Lux and Powerman, praying it will hold, when...

She isn't going for _them._

She bends under Iron-Fist's punch, kicks him in the back and sends the martial artist sprawling with a sneer, and her hand reaches out like the world has been waiting for this. Rosette falls into Stutter's arms and when the truth finally bleeds raw, time is paused and started and any remnants of the two girls and the gravity wielder is gone. Labored breathing is the only sound, other than the waves of the docks as they begin to settle and the screams of the boats as they rock. Tempest slips Nova's arm over her shoulder to hoist him up, whatever little body strength she has and Powerman holds a hand out towards Iron-Fist.

Exhaustion seeps everywhere, from their bones to the slump of the vines that had sprouted from the ocean floor beneath their feet. But the fact that those aren't gone, is because they heard them. They heard Rouge. They heard her say 'wait.'


	6. saber

_**[noted]:**_

So Esoteric is basically down with the plague, right? Kind of a bummer, but we learnt about a few more of them, and there's still two left to include in the story and hopefully, we'll see them soon. In this chapter we learn quite a bit about them if I'm honest. Bit of a surprise as well, if you hadn't already guessed what it is.

By the way, remember to leave me reviews guys and tell me what you thought the surprise was ! Ya'll know how much I love those and how they brighten my day, hehe. Anyways, enjoy and thanks for reading.

 **Guest** : Yeah, Shark was trying to attack. It's mostly because of how he's been trained, so Rosette's a little on the ball there. There's a lot more too them and thank you for your review !  
 **Moonlightmistborn** : I'm so glad you're enjoying it, sweetpea ! I adore your reviews so much, I'm so happy you're enjoying it.  
 **Darkred101** : Thank you very much.

* * *

 **[ chapter six ]**

 ** _saber_**

Translation - know, to know

Appropriation - "no sabes _nada_."

* * *

She's cornered. There's something territorial in his shoulders from where he looms over her, the way his chest rises and falls with constrained effort and she's never felt more like a scolded child. There's a drum in her heart and her veins pump hot, producing sweat on her skin as white eye panels stare her down.

"Stalker."

"What?" the word is bitten into shards, and Spiderman flinches from the way they cut over his ears. But he straightens still, and the dark-clothed girl returns to her actions beforehand. But as her hand lifts upwards to pull the darkness to her fingers like puppeteer's strings, his own slides around her wrist, stopping the inky black pull of darkness to her fingers. Vague irritation tweaks her stomach into knots and out of bred instinct, rips her hand out of his and skitters back a few steps.

"You don't _touch_ me without my permission, Spiderman."

The ice in her words does not go unheard, and he lifts his fingers in a spread of surrender to her wishes. A soft nod is sent from her and he lowers his hands. "I just wanna talk."

"That's all you ever want to do."

Spiderman chews on his bottom lip and bounces from foot-to-foot, nervousness eating at every sense and fingertip he owns, every vague, bumping thought behind his eyes that blink away hallucinations of being punched in the face by the serious _umbrakinetic_ wielder. "I know, and you're probably tired of hearing of it, but we _do._ We're co-leader's in this little team up, and don't you think we should talk things out?"

"At three am in the morning?"

"Only time the darkness comes out," there's a metaphor somewhere in the spaces between the words, but she's to exhausted and embarrassed to pick out what he's saying. His arms fold again, a wall with spiderwebs over every knuckle, every branch of solid bone in solid skin. And she's _tired_ , so Stalker folds her hostility away for another time of day, and gestures towards him to continue.

The web-themed hero huffs a sigh through draw-string lungs and he lays his hands, palm up, by his hips. As if offering something with nothing to give, but still, he speaks. "So, yesterday was -"

"A disaster, I _know,_ " the shame picks itself from her teeth as she hisses, and Spiderman flinches. As much as his speeches go, he's only done them when it's something serious and he can feel the power building in his lungs, but right now, in the face of this powerful girl, his own sinks lower into his gut. She can see the way it's flattened his hopeful words, and she sighs, unhooking her own arms like window-pane locks. "I-I'm sorry, Spiderman. Please continue."

The teenager nods, and continues. "Yesterday _wasn't_ a disaster, because I really believed we got through. They're rough around the edges, but so are we," he says, and he leans forwards, moving to offer a hand before pulling it back when he can see the tenseness of her shoulders under her jumpsuit. Stalker's still willing to listen, and he's not going to damage that. "So please don't take offence when I say this - b-but I believe that maybe my team should take the reigns, only for a little bit?"

"What!"

"Wait, wait!" his hands lift in defense when she whirls, and the darkness around his feet writhes from the sudden influx of emotion from the girl. He swallows around the need to step back and instead, lowers his arms. "I d-didn't mean anything by it! It's just...we're _all_ rough around the edges - my team hasn't had the access to your sort of training, but you've grown up in a harsh environment _from_ your training. You guys instantly distrust. So do Esoteric. So I'm just saying, let us try it _our_ way for a while. Please."

She'd looked ready to cut the spider-themed hero in half, for daring to declare her team had flaws big enough for him to actually see, but she faltered on her turn to stare at him when he said 'please.' People usually don't plead with children in teenaged bodies, more so if they know they can hurt them. So her thoughts backtrack, her tongue turns on it's side to find a way to swallow her anger.

"Would you teach us?" There's something child-like and lost in her chest when she speaks, and Spiderman almost flinches at how hopeful it seems. No matter how much her body language may produce picket fences and warning signs around her, she still peers from beneath the panels of her red eyes, still looks entirely too vulnerable for a girl that could pull every shadow in the room to her will.

So Spiderman nods and strides forwards, trying to ignore the way her feet automatically try to scuff backwards, to disappear back into the back of the room. But something like a punch pushes her forwards, and she moves to join him, after displaying how she can move through the shadows when she sinks through the floor and stands beside him in seconds. The boy jumps with a squeal, holding out a webbed wrist in threat before pulling his limbs apart from their curled positions around his body.

"D-Don't... _do_ that! Didn't even know you could teleport," he murmurs, before creating a spinning motion with his fore-finger towards the girl, and he sits himself on the ground like a child when she steps back a few inches. He can practically see the raised eyebrow under the black cloth and with amusement filling his body, pats the space opposite him. Gingerly, she lowers herself in front of him, legs curled to her chest.

"May I ask why are we on the floor?"

"It's more fun," when she starts at the reason, as if 'fun' has been dormant in her for so long, he feels a pang of sympathy like a drum in his chest, but masks it with laughter. "So, we're gonna talk, just talk. For as long as you want."

"About what?"

"Where'd you get your powers? How?"

Stalker huffs like a spoiled child behind her mask, eyes averting to the ground as memories ricochet like tossed bullets, like fists flying into her stomach and shadows curling around a teenaged girl's neck when she got to scared to control it anymore. "I _really_ should have used the portals to go back to my room..."

"Whazzat?"

"Nothing. Alright, so I got my powers when I was five, but..."

* * *

Force isn't built for drop-offs. She's made for staying at home, devising plans and thinking of ways to get them _all_ out without leaving a single one behind, as well as destroying the neighboring laboratories without alerting the newly positioned guards. But with Timeline sick, as well as most of the others and Rosette having break-downs left and right, the other two needed to keep the peace and Force was left to retrieve the samples.

There's nervousness locked in every line of her body as she steps through the dark - she's never been fond of it, not because of what it is, but what can lurk inside. Many nights, there have been hands grasping at her and fire begging to have a lick of her flesh with too many close-calls that she'd like to admit. The darkness always hid them until it was too late, so she stayed clear of the way; and as if she were imagining it, the shadows followed her careful footsteps like wandering fingers.

The docks groaned beneath her padding feet, the waves beat their fists against the rapidly deteriorating wooden legs that held the boards above sea-level. Subconsciously, her feet counted out the sequence that had been bred into her and immediately, once finished, turned down the jetty that ran alongside one specific boat. Her heart lifted when she saw the inconspicuous scrawl of a long-worn logo poking from beneath the foaming mouth of the waves. She could only see an 'ESOT' before it sunk back into the gasping gullet of the ocean.

She beat down the jetty with sudden speed, chest lifting higher as she reached the open walk-way onto the boat. She gripped the docking rope with bitten fingernails and quaking hands and brought the walk-way down, before walking up it and throwing herself through the door and slumping against it like a tired wishbone, legs slipping against cheap carpet every which way. The shadows were gone and her heart returned to it's normal pace before she peeled herself off of the metallic door.

"Aiden! Aiden, you here?"

There's a soft pause, before the ruffling of sheets can be heard and thick footsteps shake the ground slightly, spilling the scent of aftershave and soap through the cabin. A boy peers through the doorway, thick brown-dyed-from-red hair mussed and eyes drooped from so many sleepless nights that Force felt her heart go out for him. But her chest leaped, not an unusual occurrence, when his face split into a wide grin and he tucked the girl under his chin lovingly.

"Thank _god_ you're safe, I thought -"

"Don't worry about me, Cor," he murmurs into her dark hair, smoothing a strand away and pulling back, smiling at the shorter girl, before tugging his way over towards a small fridge held up by nothing more than duct-tape and hope. He holds out a drink towards her, wiggling it teasingly when she pauses. Graciously, she accepts it, tipping the soft drink back like she hasn't had one in years, and in a way, she hasn't. He slumps back onto a lumpy couch a few feet away, stretching lazily. "I didn't know the medicine got intercepted until I was a few streets away - how'd it go?"

"I wasn't there, but," she peers up shyly, fingers fiddling around the neck of the bottle from where she perches on the edge of a window. It spans the ocean, picking stars and far-off planets like they're puzzle pieces into her lap and New York fades to quiet noise as she stares at something that reminds her of home between the waves. She sighs slightly, ignoring how Aiden snuffs a good-natured laugh into the back of his hand. "They _did_ get the medicine, but then...they -"

"I heard; tid-bits," his hand wavers as he talks, foot digging around under the couch for something as he does.

She nods. "Yeah, they...brought it back, though they cornered Rosette. We didn't know until we saw her plant pots in the upper levels writhing, and Stutter and I," she doesn't ignore the tiny fist pump he sends for his sister, smiling slightly, "we left Timeline and Gem to keep things under control and help. When we got there, that spider-themed boy...he handed over the medicine like he...didn't know he was handing us back our _lives_. Then, one of those SHIELD puppets attacked Rosette and we had to intercept."

"You all got back okay?" The question is rhetorical - he knows they did, they'd have had to. But the way he worries his lip and how his legs tense around the curve of the couch makes her think he just needs to hear her say it.

"Yeah, we got Rosette and the medicine back," she says, taking another soft, quick drink of her bottle, but her gentle gasp of breath afterwards sounds despondent and her eyes turn wide, still in shock, "but I thought I knew those SHIELD puppets; all of them. But, the blond that can grow fire, she said _stop_. She's never done that before."

"Anyone's capable of change, Cornelia."

His feet hook a bag strap on his toes, pulling it from the bottom of the couch shadowed by thick blankets. There's a clink of glass, a shudder of liquid and carefully, he hooks it over her arm when she huffs it up over her shoulder. He smiles at the blond, before weaving a scarf around her neck like a concerned older brother, causing her to lose herself beneath the new layer. Her brow raises and his chest beats with laughter.

"I know it's not far, but it's late and cold. Er, Cor," he calls when she turns towards the door, hooking a few fingers over her wrist. She peers back over the new item of red clothing - much like his original hair colour - and her brows furrow when his gaze is sent to his feet. She can see the gulp of fear that pulls itself down his throat, soft eyes staring up at her after looking down at her for so long. It reminds her of a frightened child. "How many?"

"Over three quarters."

"Why don't you just leave?" He ignores her curt reply - it's always the same, anyways. He holds tighter when she tries to pull her wrist out of his cuff-like hands. "Some of them...I get you're maternal, but it's their time. You don't have to keep doing this, all five of you. You've done enough."

"Your sister will decide that when she wants too."

"That's _not_ what I'm talking about," and she sinks into his arms again, swallowing the sudden fear that plummets itself like fire in her stomach, sending shrapnel into her chest. She finds it hard to breathe when he talks like this, even when he's rubbing her back. "I mean - yeah, I want my sister home. But I also want my _family_ home, all of you. You're smart; you've probably calculated their chances of survival with all types of variables, Cornelia. For some of them, there's no hope anymore."

"Aiden, no offence, but don't talk stupid," the usually warm and friendly girl, sometimes desperate for touch, pulls back from his embrace and pulls the bag higher over her sunken down shoulders. "There's always hope, there has to be. You're right, I've plotted every outcome but not for their survival rate. I've plotted for how many more we could have saved, how many we could've lost if we hadn't started this. We're the reason they're sick and injured and hurt but they're _alive_ , and we're gonna fix it. Everything they've done to us, what they've done to _them_. We'll fix it."

He can practically taste the way his sister has hardened the girl. How Gem has led their rebellion with a hard fist and a kind heart, how Timeline has offered guidance and Rosette, how her short-temper has been tapered in the presence of this over-trusting girl - such a trait that would be seen as a weakness if not for her overwhelming determination. So he smiles and tucks her into another hug, soft and sweet, before letting her pull away.

"No stopping Esoteric, then? The laboratory terrorists?"

"Please; our actual definition is only to be understood by a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest, they don't _get_ us."

The door closes with a soft clank on his laughter, and her smile seems perpetual when she walks off the walk-way, but suddenly, the air shifts. Her feet pause. The gravity doesn't feel right in her bones and Force can taste something that isn't touching the ground around her, something that can _fly_ but _shouldn't_. Slowly, like molasses has constrained her limbs to a sticky slowness, her eyes fall on a vaguely-familiar group of people. Red, blue, white, green, yellow and black greet her in a kaleidoscope of colour, bleeding something new against the grey background of the warehouses that run along the docks of the harbor.

The tallest of the six shuffles forwards, hands open and eyes hidden behind sunglasses as her hands curl tighter around the strap of the bag and hold it closer to her body. Her feet press backwards and he holds out a hand, palm up. "Hey, it's alright. We won't hurt you, I promise," but when her brows furrow into a narrowed glare, and her shoulders slink into something historical and blood-thirsty, he stumbles over his words. "I-It's okay, you can t-trust us -"

"AIDEN!"

There isn't even hesitation as the door to the inside of the boat is thrown open and Aiden has his arm hooked behind him to hold Force closer. There's anger sprouting from every single line of his body, every breath that hooks itself through his nose like an angry bull as he holds a gun out, but his fingers shake around the trigger.

Even if he's bullet-proof, the African-american teenager still starts at the sudden weapon, holding his hands up. Behind him, Nova's aura blares brighter and White Tiger shifts further into the dark like she's been taught too. The boy sneers at them, and somehow, he can see the resemblance between Stutter and Aiden clearly in the dark. "Look man, we don't want to fight."

"From past experiences I've heard from my girls, you _do_."

"Not this time," counters Powerman, swiping a hand to accentuate his point. He steps forwards and even though the gun is cocked loudly when he does, he doesn't flinch. From nature or nurture, he's not sure. But the wild look in Aiden's eyes assures him he won't pull the trigger, he won't take any lives on the docks. "We want to help, to talk. We don't know you guys, what you're fighting for but we know you are fighting for something."

"You don't know anything."

"We know more than you think," says Iron Fist from his straight-backed position, and immediately, the gun is shoved in his direction. He only lowers his hands and continues, "we know that you've liberated certain objects and items from the company 'NOLE NEQUE's mirage collection, as well as desecrated many of it's laboratories in the past few months. It is illegal, and yes, we have been contacted to detain you. We know _what_ you're doing. But we want to know _why_."

There's a sudden snort from behind Aiden, and something comes flying from over his shoulder, which Spiderman intercepts with a web slung to catch it. It falls back into his hand and his brow, beneath the mask, raises as he stares at a plain shoe, the soles worn and falling off the heel. But he looks up and the shoe is forgotten about when he can see Force pushing around Aiden, tears streaming unholy down her pale cheeks.

"You know _nothing,_ " she huffs, voice hoarse as she tries to control her anger on her tongue and her throat tightens, cracking her words on it's splinters. "You SHIELD _dogs_ act like you are entitled to everything; money, recognition and even lives that you miss what's right in front of you. We aren't _stealing_ the mirage collection - WE _ARE_ THE MIRAGE COLLECTION!"

Another shoe sails forwards, smacking Tempest in the chest but she doesn't grunt as her eyes, from behind the mask she dons, widen further into dinner plates and sudden nostalgia, wretched and blinding, claws at her chest. And the way she sobs, thick and hiccuped as Aiden tries to hold her back and she can see the backs of Spiderman's feet lift from the ground, she can tell she's losing control of her gravity powers and the fear that eats at her, that Tempest knows so fondly, makes her feel pure sorrow for the blond.

"They hurt us, _experimented_ on us and we had no say in it! Some of them didn't have to feel that, to have...needles everywhere, to have their lives slip out of their own control. But...people like Stutter a-and Timeline didn't have the luxury of their lives to begin with. I-I don't even know what happened to _me_ ," hopelessness is something dormant in her, something she's kept away for a long time and fingers try and pull her back from the edge of the water. But she looks up and there's sudden determination, something that she's borrowed for a little while from someone else. "But t-that doesn't matter. What matters is that we are saving them, our brothers and sisters, from people like _you._ "

"Yanno," a sudden new voice enters, familiar and tilting with something demon-like and the Ultimates turn, and they can see Lux. She isn't in her hero costume, far from it in a short pleated red skirt, with a black and white top hanging over her frame. The thick leather jacket she wears looks more like a cape than a normal piece of clothing as the wind bounces haphazardly off the thrumming tide. Instantly, Force scrambles back when she lifts her hands towards her. "People like you are the reason I'm still kicking. Tell _Gem_ I said hi."

There's a sudden flash, lights turning on overhead from large, giant flood lights poised on rooftops. Everyone else is blinded for a moment except Lux, whose back is towards the light. She takes the stolen moment and in seconds, knives are bled between her fingers from the light she's been given. Her hands swing outwards, sending the projectiles straight towards the blond at the end of the jetty.

She doesn't know how but Force somehow blinks away her blindness, long enough to grip Aiden around the forearm and tug him up to stand beside her. She starts sprinting, towards the water and she only hears a watery thud from a tackle when she throws them both into the writhing sea. She can only imagine who hit the docks.


	7. joya

_**[noted]:**_

Finally got to meet a third member of Esoteric - _Force !_ I sorta love Force a lot because she is really intelligent and, I also kinda added her little friendship with Aiden (Honorary Eso.) there which made me a _eensy weency_ bit happy. We'll get to meet all of Esoteric soon, promise, and then we'll get into the big leagues. We might even meet some extras.

Also, i'm really interested on what you think of this chapter because this split into something I didn't really see coming. Drop me something if you want, hope you enjoy !

 **Minx98** **:** You'll find out soon enough how Lux and Gem know each other, hope you enjoy this chapter for the time being though.  
 **Moonlightmistborn** : I'm glad you love it so much ! Thank you for your lovely comment.  
 **Firecracker** : well, Rosette's 'element' is sorta earth right? So she can't do much with water and because Shark's there, he's sort of her polar opposite. So yeah, it's a bad idea for her to be by the water, especially Rosette.

* * *

 **[ chapter seven ]**

 ** _Joya_**

Translation - Gem

Appropriation - "Joya, estos son los Ultimates."

* * *

Sam Alexander was not good at being quiet.

After having his voice stuffed back down his throat for so many years, from bullies and teachers and society alike, it's no surprise that he found his mouth widened with decibels big enough to shake buildings when he was allowed to voice his opinion and wouldn't be judged. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with him at particular times, in particular places.

His voice had gotten them caught once or twice on missions, and now was no different. Spiderman had elaborately constructed a plan with Stalker, after the arguments on Lux's involvement had simmered down to a slight scuffle of annoyance in their chests, that had them scouting through the docks for the next few days by themselves. Monday slipped by into Tuesday, and Tuesday fell haphazardly into pieces when the night began to tinge pink with sleep.

"I'm still annoyed, you know."

"Yes Sam, we know," bites Tempest in a whisper, the usually-sweet tempered girl having to stuff her own voice further back into her skin to avoid yelling at her boyfriend. Sam raises a brow at the tone, arms crossing tightly. "We all are; she shouldn't have done it, but she did and it's in the past now."

"Still, I -"

"No offence, but would you _shut up_ ," she hisses, crouching further behind the crates stacked like toppling hands, pulling up the hem of her boot. The cosmic-themed hero narrowed his eyes at her, sitting against the wall opposite the crates, twisting his arm guards subconsciously and pulling up his legs.

"Why're you so testy?"

"Why're _you_ so loud?"

He pulls back from the agitated attitude of his girlfriend, huffing a determined breath as she pulls her gaze over the edges of the crates, staring at the derelict warehouse they'd been watching for the last couple of days. The lights flickered inside, deep and intimidating, throwing grotesque shadows across the wood of the docks like wrenched eyes. Something bristles under her skin and her resolve eats away, as she turns to open her mouth but Nova beats her too it.

"I'm _not_ being loud. God, you've been like this ever since -"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence, No -"

"You can't order me!"

"When you're being annoying, I can!"

It's not usual the two get into fights, usually because Tempest had always been so jumpy and her powers were highly uncontrollable. But over the years, her self-control has grown and even though she can feel the urge pressing against the back of her teeth as she retorts to the cosmic hero, she stamps it down as she sees green eyes narrow behind the helmet and his aura flare a darker blue in agitation.

As he pushes off the wall to retort, there's a sudden pause of time where Tempest's eyes avert skyward, to the dark shape that rears an ugly head over the tops of the crates. It slams itself haphazardly into Nova's temple, scattering blood instantly and the action causes it to fall off. Her eyes widen as hands find their way over the edge and a boy, larger than the crates, folds a long leg over the top to crawl over.

Fear bleeds hot into Tempest's chest, and she scrambles forwards towards the groaning Latino, hands outstretched like desperate string. "Nov - !"

Something thick and elastic ties itself around her throat, and as one hand claws on the ground to get away and the other pulls at the wire that snags itself thick and uncomfortable around her throat, she can feel the familiar fear scratch itself up her throat. Wide eyes and a quivering voice turn to find another, the exact replica of the other boy, with a dog-catcher's wire tucked between his wide hands. He gives another harsh tug when she tries to speak, cutting off her air. In her frenzied state, she can't call it too her - she's far too preoccupied to remember her powers.

" _Uff_ , sleep, small one," he murmurs, voice low and rumbling the foothills of mountains somewhere, when she continues to claw and kick her way towards the unconscious boy currently being slung over his twin's shoulder. Almost as if on cue, when she wonders if their team has noticed the scuffle or the lack of voices over the comms in her ear, his fingers nimbly pick it out from her ear and his partner, pressing the helmet back onto his face, scoops out Sam's and crushes it.

"Stay _silent!_ " His voice quiver's with a snakes hiss as he drags her up, uncurling the dog wire from her throat and throwing her over his own shoulder, gasping for the breath she'd been denied and ignoring the line of pain that strings itself around her throat. He holds down her legs when she kicks and doesn't flinch when she claws, though she can feel the sobs and fear work their way up her throat, how she suddenly starts to shake as the world closes in on her, because she didn't fight. She didn't even try.

Slowly, Tempest's eyes notice how there's more of this boy, with hands for crushing buildings and eyes more narrow than blades. They ink out of the shadows, with Powerman and Iron Fist pushed in front of three of them, hands tied and eyes forward. Iron Fist, now mask-less and ripped mask tied around his wrist, nodded at Tempest, as if to ask if she's okay. She didn't answer.

Tiger stumbled from the shadows, tiger amulet thrumming hotly but her hands are restrained by a pair that aren't hers, with another two behind her - one holding Spiderman in a cradle as the hero slumped, unconscious - and the silence settled. Every now and then, tiger would throw out a punch or a leg to trip one of the identical-looking boys, but was soon restrained properly.

Then, the overhanging lamps, which swing like sunken heads over the docks, dampen as they reach the warehouses and Tempest's brows furrow. Are they transporting them to their base, conscious and live hostages? The brown-eyed girl can see the same thought process filtering through Powerman as his shoulders hunch, his feet scuff the wood that holds them above the roiling sea edge more frequently, as if trying to dig his heels into the wood to _stop_. Then, the light disappears in trade for a doorway threshold, where the boy has to bend to avoid from hitting both their heads on the arch way.

She's deposited in front of him with Nova's helmet in a duffel bag, as Nova and Spiderman are huffed unceremoniously to the floor by their own guards, and shoved forwards slightly with a soft nudge, towards where two people stand, another boy and a girl. The boy hides deep in the crevices of a hood and thick, ratty jeans that tug against and snag on the nails that poke their way from the wrenched-up floorboards. He approaches Tempest with the silence of a cat on it's paws, but no predator instinct sinks into his skin towards her. Still, she flinches back harshly when he puts out a hand to touch her.

"Don't you _dare_ \- " Powerman's words are cut short as the boy behind him throws a fist into his jaw, knocking him onto his knees and White Tiger's instantly trying to kick free, growls reverberating through her chest and roaring.

"Sentinel," the voice is soft and vaguely feminine, coming from the boy hidden beneath the folds of the hood, and instantly, the taller folds back into an obedient position, arms folding against his sides. However, the shorter doesn't still. "It is alright, my friend. You can settle."

There's a unanimous sigh between each identical boy, and suddenly, a soft vibration fills the room like after a triangle has been struck. Suddenly, their bodies begin to become transparent and take on a drip effect; however, not downwards but towards one space in-particular, behind White Tiger, where the only one that doesn't turn transparent stands. They seem to curl towards him, until they are no longer there, but inking back into his skin, like ghosts from another life. The giant sighs in contentment, flexing his arms.

"You know I hate the duplicating, Psi."

"I know. I apologize. Go check on Ameena, see if she needs more medication," softly orders the shorter, and the lumbering boy exits the room without a second of hesitation, smile on his features shy. Instantly, the four group around the two unconscious parts of their hero outfit, and somehow, Tempest knows that the boy - Psi - smiles softly at the action.

As he approaches again though, Tiger now without her restrictions, flares up her claws wide, glaring at the boy. His hands fall open in surrender. "I will not hurt you."

"Pretty hard to believe that after getting _frog-marched_ here."

"I apologize for that as well, but you _were_ the ones that were scouting _us_ out," truth bleeds soft in his word and he chuckles when the girl behind him sighs around her discomfort. He angles his head back towards her. "Come now, Stutter. You'll make them feel bad."

" _E'lm_ , I don't think they'd care much," murmurs the familiar blond, who pulls herself from the shadows with distrust evident in the creaks of her bones, the way her hips angle away from the SHIELD heroes. Her eyes narrow, gaunt features taking a sharp texture in the overhead lighting.

Psi doesn't seem to mind, and rolls his eyes, turning back to the ground. His hands fall from hanging by his head and the boy holds out one towards them, and everyone only vaguely notices it's a shoddy work of a prosthetic limb when his smile widens. "This is only a formality, so no one shall be hurt in this...introduction."

Somehow, Tempest knows he's looking at her, prompting her to go first, but her hands never stray from their clenched position against her chest, she never bends from where she stands over Spiderman and Nova, faces exposed slightly, unconscious on the floor. Suddenly, a large shape stands in front of her and with a neutral expression, Danny's hand slots against Psi's, fingers bending around his wrist as he takes Tempest's place. She'd always learned better through example anyways.

"Over-trusting, hm? Like Force."

"Only for my family. May I ask first," he says, hand pulling back before Psi can touch his skin, eyes narrowed, "but, what _are_ you going to do?"

Behind Psi, Stutter smiles, impressed at the other blonde. Psi joins her, prosthetic fingers curling into his palm. "It is only a formality, as I said, but I can take away powers," when he sees the startled looks on their faces, he waves a hand, "but only for a short time, and I promise I will return them to you when it is time for you to leave. All I ask is that you _trust me_."

Danny pauses, brows narrowing downwards before casting a look towards the blond across the room. Suddenly, Danny turns to Psi. "Then take hers first."

"I beg your pardon?"

Stutter peers up, something akin to impressed shock as she wanders up towards the group to listen with interested ears. "That which is asserted without evidence can be dismissed similarly," Danny says, peering upwards as she approaches.

Stutter pauses, before her smile reaches higher and she holds out a hand to her shorter friend. "Smart boy; Christopher Hitchens."

Stutter didn't _like_ Psi's power. In fact, she hated it. As his fingers slip over hers, mirroring the familiar dance of brushing his fingertips from the base of her wrist to the ends of her own, then prodding a triangle at three points on her palm, she can feel the world tilt slightly. Her feet slip against the ground and she stumbles slightly as her energy depletes and her teeth grit. Psi gives a whine, eyebrows crunching in slight pain, as well as Stutter's, until he pulls his hands from hers.

"See," he huffs, angular, crescent eyes darting into a sudden sharp blue from brown under the hood, as he turns to look at the perplexed, conscious SHIELD agents, "doesn't hurt at all."

"You sure about that? You don't seem to be your best now," murmurs Powerman, rubbing a hand against his bicep unconsciously.

"Psi doesn't like to talk of his pain," answers Stutter, hooking an arm around the shorter boy, who leans against her softly with a shy smirk, not wanting to bask in the rare praise she deposits like food in his lap. Then, when her arm still ties around spindly shoulders, she sends a narrowed gaze to the Ultimates. "But I promise you, he can do this. We'll give them back."

It seems that's all Danny needs and he gently, slots his hand back on Psi's prosthetic limb. The chi-wielder groans slightly and stumbles, but he regains his balance when Tiger bounces forwards, slotting an arm around his back before he stands again. Next, Tempest presses her hand into Psi's, and she has to sit herself on the ground as she's not as strong as Danny and he continues until he reaches Tiger.

"Your power isn't genetic. Where does it come from, may I ask?" Tiger doesn't need to answer; she shows it. Claws scrape across the tiger amulet that sits squarely against her collarbones, and it flashes with something primal and ancient, dark green worming it's way from the sunken in eyes of the tiger amulet.

"It's a family heirloom."

"Would you be willing to part with it for a while?"

"Not really."

"Okay," Psi shrugs, something soft and understanding as he hugs his prosthetic limb to his side and moves onto Spiderman and Nova. The same happens and he softly parts Spiderman from his web shooters and hands them to Stutter, but as his fingers go to claw under Nova's helmet, Tempest stands.

"W-Wait, that's his...it hides his identity," she answers as she shakily stands to her feet, hands outstretching like she needs another reason to grab onto, something else that will pull his hands back from the edge of the blackened, dented helmet. "And, i-it's his dad's."

Psi, once again nods, and it's that little action that floods the world in Tempest's chest. Her breath hitches in her throat and the smile that pulls her face wide seems to spill with gratitude as she moves to hook one of their arms over her shoulder, only to be parted away when Powerman - now Luke, bare of his sunglasses - and Danny pull one of either over their shoulders.

Tiger follows their lead, and her mask comes off, spilling dark hair over her shoulders and Tempest unties her own mask. They trusted them to enter their home with their powers intact, so now they would trust them with their identities. The two Esoteric agents pause, something gentle and scared as they stare onto open faces before Psi laughs, a guffaw of booming happiness and he sends a proud smirk to Stutter. The blond groans and shoves him away.

"Come on, SHIELD dogs, you've gotta meet the others," she announces and Psi bids a soft farewell, saying it's his turn to guard the entrance. As Luke moves to ask where it is, Stutter gives a short, brief whistle and directs their attention towards her foot. It's hooked under something thick, which she kicks open and dust flutters from the open mouth of the tunnel beneath the warehouse like it's finally been allowed to breathe again after so long. Stutter waves a hand around her face and gestures her head towards the stairwell that digs beneath the warehouse.

Slowly, they drip down into the tunnel, one-by-one, and Stutter closes the door behind them after giving a soft wave towards Psi. The world tilts into darkness for a moment, before something clicks, fast and sharp and fire lights the room. Stutter places the lighter into a dent in the wall, that runs further down the darkened room filled with gasoline, and the fire spreads quick until shadows flicker softly across the walls, throwing grotesque figures like twisted vines.

Stutter continues forwards without hesitating, down the hallway until she begins to descend down the stairs, and the Ultimates follow obediently. Tempest's hand pulls around Ava's fore arm, and the taller pulls her own hand up to grip it tightly. For all her tough skin, Ava is scared too.

"By the way," she comments lowly after a few moments, "if you're thinking of using your communicators to send a homing signal to SHIELD, think again. The upper floors are lined with lead and we've purposely scratched out this place and put it through the floors. So they're useless, unless you have some sort of game that doesn't connect to the internet on it."

The blond tries not to snort with laughter when she suddenly hears the sound of a recorded football game whirring to life on Luke's wrist, and the hall is filled with just football chatter and curious glances. Soon, the bottom pulls itself into view and light spills from an open entrance. The football game stops dead, and jaws fall open when they walk through the scratched out doorway.

The room is unlike the ones they've been in so far. Its cavern stretches wide like the mouth of someone screaming, but arched over the door, are soft tendrils of grape vines and foxglove flowers that hang like snow over their heads, teeth into the beat's mouth, and when Ava goes to pick one in curiosity, Luke sends her a narrowed look and she drops it by her foot with a sheepish smile. Around the room, pots and troughs line it with flowers and plants that arch high, towards the glass that seeps natural light into the room. The fire that had lit their way spills around the dome of the room, and it only dents it's path when it's cut underneath a spillage of water, with a dug out bowl that holds it against the wall, with vines pulling around it like creeping ivy fingers.

And in the center, where a bare row connects to the other side of the room to the next stairwell, fingers lovingly pulling two plants apart and pressing them towards the light beneath their leaves, is Rosette. Her thick brown hair falling loose from her pigtails and her clothes are muddied with dirt and work. There's smudges of soil on her smiling face and when the fire begins to roar, she immediately turns towards Stutter and goes to throw out her hands in a welcome hug, but ellipsis bleeds fear in her toes as she stumbles on her sudden stride and her face goes white and the arms bend into a defensive position so quickly, they wonder whether it was on instinct or if she even thought about it first.

"Kari, I -"

"What are _they_ doing here?"

"Believe me, we aren't stoked to be here either," bites Ava from where she folds her arms behind Danny, who tries to put a hand before her and Luke ruffles slightly at the sharp tone the other girl takes with them. Rosette bleeds a glare to them, muttering low in another language.

"Kari, they've been with Psi. They can't hurt anyone, I promise, sis," Stutter says, compassion leaking through every single bend of her bones, every breath that files itself through razor-sharp ribs and it takes a second to realize that they're family through circumstance, not blood. And when she coughs around something thick and sick, Rosette's fight ebbs away with her shoulders aching from the tensed position.

Her arm pulls around Stutter and pats her back twice, until the cough subsides and she stands. A soft look is passed between them, before the plant-grower sighs and peers towards the Ultimates, even if her teeth do grit like bricks in her mouth. "Do not step on Peonies."

When Luke playfully threatens to Tempest to step on one, a soft growl shakes the room a little and he bounces back.

They continue through the room, now accompanied by Rosette, in the same way as before. There's another stairwell, but it leads to a split path and instantly, Stutter takes the left one. The hallway continues until there's a room. This one is subsequently larger than the plant room, but there's no windows that press themselves into the ceiling. But this room is worse.

Row upon row of beds, of beds made of plastics and stolen sheets and even bin bags, greet them. And tucked, painfully thin, beneath the make-shift blankets, are _children_. Younger and older, weak and frail and leaning over the side of their beds to pull wracking coughs from their chests like pulling teeth. Tempest's breath catches in her throat, Luke's eyes avert and from the sheer crescendo of sickness, Spiderman stirs on Luke's shoulder.

"Walk fast and keep your heads low," commands Stutter, and she glides into the room, eyes facing straight ahead to the door, acting as if this didn't effect her in the slightest. But her fists curl and her eyes split with tears. It's obvious her heart is breaking a little behind the thick brunt of assertiveness she hums, but still, she manages to not break down and fall on her knees. Rosette is the same, and the flower crown that she's weaved through her hair wilts slightly because of it.

They continue, until another fork appears and Stutter takes the second right one out of the four until another room splits into view. This one is small, and square and it is littered with more frail, sick-riddled bodies. But pressed to the back wall, opposite them, is no door but a small platform with five simple chairs. On the other two walls on their sides, cut open doors lead to stairwells and hallways and they can tell this is the heart of the Esoteric hide-out.

On the platform are three girls. One is Force, whose eyes widen in silk shock when she see's the Ultimates standing awkwardly in the door behind Rosette and Stutter, who murmurs a frail, sensitive whisper of 'Timeline!' under her breath and races towards a girl propped up against one of the chairs, a window sheet pulled over her sickly frame. Her skin is pale, even moreso with her sickness and her black chest-length hair sticks to her forehead with sweat. Grey-black eyes arch into crescent moons when she sends a tired smile to Stutter, who collects Timeline's face in her hands like she's a broken doll and she hooks her fingers between hers on her jaw.

Crouched beside her, is another girl. Long, golden brown hair dips in greasy tendrils and wide blue eyes peer tiredly at the girl that is half leaning on her leg. When she peers up to see Rosette step up towards the last chair on the end of the row and drop her body into the seat with her legs thrown over the arm, there is a small noticeable scar that pushes it's way across her hairline. Her brow furrows, and the girl jerks her head towards the group at the door as she drops lazily into her chair, swinging her legs over the arm.

Something broken slips between her fingers. Something scared and fearful but her eyes press over the sick in the room, in between the ragged coughs and close-to-death children. Her heart taps a beat and she stands, ethereal glow from the windows above highlighting the bones that ring xylophones across her body. Rosette is half-shadowed by the light that bleeds down, arms crossed and Force peers over her shoulder, although she stands with her back to them. Timeline is huffing and panting against the pain in her abdomen and chest and head, slumped against the chair so tiredly, she hardly notices them there. Stutter pauses around the edges, every line of her body going rigid as she crouches beside the final chair.

"Gem, these are the Ultimates."

Gem nods, lip chewed in fright. "Right. Let's talk."


	8. emboscada

_**[noted]:**_

I'm gonna admit - it took me _ages_ to write this. I got a massive case of writers block for a good week at 250 words and then I decided, after writing a number of short one shots, that I'd write this and it _exploded_ into something i didn't think would happen. I'm so excited to share this with you guys.

 **Darkred101** : don't worry about it, sweetpea. I'm just glad you got to enjoy something!  
 **Guest(1)** : that review really brightened my day, you wouldn't believe how much I smiled the first time I saw it. Thank you so much for what you said.  
 **Guest(2)** : Actually, I knew there was something else but when I was writing the chapter with Rosette in it, I was tunnel-visioned, yanno? So I didn't look back until the very end. I'll add in her other abilities as the story progresses, thank you.  
 **Wowza03** : If that's what your imagination says, haha !  
 **FinalFanatasyCrazedGirl01** : Actually, if you wanna see a little Lux shipping, because of your comment, I wrote them a one-shot in my drabble book, 'and the mouse ran up the clock' if you wanna sate your needs hehe. And don't worry, that conclusions coming up _real_ soon.

* * *

 **[ chapter eight ]**

 ** _emboscada_**

Translation - Ambush

Appropriation - _"'emboscada,' 'armas,' 'no hay salida,'."_

* * *

Gem's eyes wandered around the room momentarily, before pinning a shaky, half painted on smile as she gestured to the sick that coughed and spluttered. "Perhaps...we should talk about this without so many. We wouldn't want you contracting _our_ sickness."

The Esoteric leader comments slyly, and behind the smile, there's a pinch of malice not reserved for them, but not entirely undeserved. So she steps off the platform, gesturing towards one of the many doors that exits the heart of the Esoteric hideout after visiting some of the sick, replenishing their water or giving their hands a soft, encouraging squeeze. The Ultimates follow obediently, as the dents filled with gas in the walls are lit again and a soft, croaky voice pulls the silence into pieces.

" _Wha_ \- oh my god, why does this stink? where are we? where's Ava? Guys, my _nostrils,_ ugh," over Luke's shoulder, Spiderman's hand covers the general area where his nose would be, curling up slightly around the boy. Ava groans, cheeks blooming red with embarrassment as Gem turns, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Seriously, it smells like the sewers. Did Sam not take a shower?"

"Some of us don't have such a luxury, Spiderman," bites Gem, before she resolves back into her calm stance and fingers curling back into her pockets when they pull from their confines to form fists. It's as if she's afraid of them, but not enough to not defend her friends - she'll stay civil, until civil is off the table. Immediately, Spiderman stills at the sound of a new voice that splinters off the walls like gem shards.

"Please tell me that was Tiger."

"Sorry buddy. Can you stand?" questions Luke as he deposits the web-themed hero. As he goes to answer, nodding his head, he stumbles slightly and Ava slips a hand around his chest, prompting the hero to look at her. His shoulders un-tense from their position by his ears until his eye-panels widen and his hands touch around his own face for good measure. "Av-Tiger, your mask!"

"Don't worry webhead, our identities went down the drain when Fist's mask was ripped off. Besides, they don't know our names and they won't tell anyone," she says, turning her gaze to Gem who, with wary distance between the newly-awakened SHIELD agent, nods her support with a line for a mouth. Spiderman's shoulders drip back into a relaxed position at the agreement.

As he fumbles with the notion on whether to pull off his own mask or not, Gem speaks. "You can leave your mask on if you wish, Spiderman. Besides, who _would_ we tell?" There's something else that leaks beneath the surface, something familiar that makes Tempest's hair stand on end. Gem continues down the hallway, oblivious to the brunette's suspicions, past rooms and windows that overlook cliff-sides and stare up towards the towering skyscrapers of New York. The sky, once a soft tinge of pink, was now breaking into blue waves and they were far from the docks now.

Spiderman leans on Ava heavily, limping on a foot, when he turns towards her ear, whispering. "Has anyone contacted SHIELD yet? I mean, this is the _head_ of Esoteric!"

Ava peers back, and Spiderman pauses. There's something respectful in her eyes, something that breaks through every SHIELD lesson and training regime she's been pushed and prodded through; something shoves it all to the side when her hands, bare of her claws, tighten into the spandex of his suit, just above his heart. "They have rules Peter, and to hear their side of the story, we have to respect them. Otherwise..." he doesn't ask why she trails off, and he only ghosts a hand down her side when she turns her gaze away.

Finally, Gem turns down another pathway and through a door that bleeds a square of gold across the stone walkway. The room is more well-lit than the others, with stolen overhanging lamps connected to fat wires that run out of the room that seem to shudder every now and then and rounded like an bowl has been placed over them, high enough that the walls almost disappear when the light can't touch it. However, in the middle of the room, a thick oak wood tree stands proud, roots wide and aching with their weight, haphazard bricks making a make-shift flower pot over twisting and curling roots over one another, with the wide leaves, brushed with autumn, seem to press against the roof, daring it to bloat further. In front of the oak wood, a circle of pillows are thrown, like a makeshift den with a basket full of them pressed further against the bricks of the oak wood tree, just within reaching distance.

Sitting on one of the pillows, cigarette hanging lazily like a hanging brick, is Aiden.

Instantly, he smothers the cigarette into the cement they walk on when Gem enters, sheepish smile pulling his features wide as he stands. The girl rolls her eyes and continues past, pulling pillows and beanbags from the basket and placing them into the circle. Immediately, Danny lowers Nova into the pillows, cushioning his head softly and wiping away the caked blood. Worry pushes its way through his green eyes at the sight.

"We can bring in a healer if you'd like," softly murmurs Aiden, breaking the silence in two as he notices Danny's look of worry for his friend. The blond looks up, startled. From everything that's happened, that they've been trying to capture them for days, weeks, and they still offer help? Danny tilts his head.

"We would be grateful for that, thank you," he answers in return, nodding his head respectfully and Aiden, with the hope of a child, nods firmly and pulls out a phone, shooting off a quick text. The others gather around them, gingerly dropping into the cushions as Gem pulls her legs into a crossed pretzel position, huffing a breath in slowly through her lungs as she holds onto her feet.

"I'm sure...you've noticed that we aren't exactly human," there's a chorus of curious nods, and Gem gives a nod herself, seeming to be full of non-verbal actions, and swallows around her fear like it's a physical lump, something stopping her from pushing past into what she wanted to say. However, something averts her attention and she stands suddenly, turning a pillow over in her haste as she moves towards the tree.

It's hard to see at first, but when the light shines close enough - _wow_. Among the leaves, dotted like stars behind clouds, are small trinkets. Tied on ribbons and strings and wires, all borrowed from a life above ground. Pictures, curled and yellowed at the edges, hang subtly between the leaves that dip low and somewhere, a pair of ballet shoes dip low into sight. Pages from a book are tucked somewhere and near the top, sadly, a broken bottle is strung up, sending shards of green light across the ground.

Gem plucks a branch like picking the fluff from clouds, with careful fingers even if they shake and on the branch, a xylophone of a wind-chime falls into view, sliding gracefully down the branch, folding leaves and flicking them back up again. Some fall off, crumpling to the floor. Her hands unhook the trinket and when they clatter, the Ultimates can see that the wind-chime isn't made of metal, but rather - gem shards, shattered and cracked along the edges. They spit green and purples and pinks around them, like gem's found in geodes and the deepest caves of the ocean.

Gem.

She sits softly, staring almost lovingly at the wind-chime, no longer than her forearm before she turns to the Ultimates. Something like tears sit behind her lashes, but they aren't sad. They're angry. "I don't know if you noticed either, but the tree's decorated - like Christmas, but it's all year," when Aiden snorts at the analogy, she bumps a shoulder against his, "It's a part of us, everyone we've collected has one on there. Even, unfortunately, the one's we've lost along the way."

The way she bites around the words, the way the chimes clatter as her hands tighten sends a chord of something fear-like through the team. But her brows, as they crumple into a murderous scowl like tightened string, smooth out and she pulls a breath through her nose once more, albeit however difficult. "This tree, these trinkets and memories we've collected along the way - they make us feel more human than we've felt every since we...we joined this world."

"What do you mean by that?" questions Spiderman, curiosity pulling his raw voice to shreds as her feelings play like piano keys along her face. Gem peers up, eyes bleeding with determination and as she opens her mouth, there's a soft scuffle behind them.

The group turns, as a small child, hardly eleven years old, lugs a first aid-kit bigger than their torso into the room. Their feet echo, happy and bouncing, as they peer over the edge. Asian eyes, framed by a soft box fringe and soft, pin-straight hair to their shoulders stare at them, widening slightly in slight fear of the new-comers. However, Aiden stands, every bit a protective older brother and strides to the child, pulling the first aid kit from their hands with kind fingers.

"Don't worry, Ivy. They're friends," but as he speaks, his hands move and the child stares intently at them, somehow understanding and it hits - the child is deaf. Ivy's face breaks into a smile and they nod, signing back a reply before striding forwards, with more confidence than all the meek souls in the room have and drops gracelessly beside Nova's head, legs folding before they hit the ground, causing them to tip on her back against Luke's knees, head staring up at him. Luke smiles at the child when they laugh up at him, before they sit straight. Ivy signs a question to Aiden, and he nods, confirming it.

Ivy's small hands dip under the curve of the helmet, feeling around gently, before prodding upon the bruise and split skin on his temple. Their eyes close, lips pursed in concentration before something amazing happens. Ivy's small body, with knobbly knees and awkward shoulders, begins to hum with warmth, settling like a water-heater in the room, and from where the blood has been caked to Nova's face, it begins to recede. It pulls itself back under the helmet, showing soft tan skin and the bruise lacks it's luster of greens and purples. It's only a few moments, but Ivy drops, huffing out a breath.

Gem smiles at the child, signing out a thank you before the child gets to work, patching up any scratches and marks the boy may have before offering their services to the Ultimates. They decline the child's offer, and once again, they pack up their supplies and leave, but not before throwing themselves into a hug with Gem, both giggling as she tips back against her beanbag. However, to all with a smile, Ivy waves a hand as they walk through the door.

There's a stunned silence between them all - how a child of eleven has found themselves in a group that bombs laboratories, how a child has been tossed into a war zone they were never meant to be born into as well as with a smile to still wear. It's a moment before Gem speaks.

"The younger ones...they make us feel the most human. These powers aren't human, but our family bonds to each other are the closest thing we have to simulating the feeling," attention turns back to the leader of Esoteric, gem shards discarded by her feet, "We didn't join this world of our own accord. We were... _created,_ into it. Some of us were physically born and captured whilst others were _made._ "

At this point, Tempest's heart turns into a war drum for a raging battle, thumping hot and steady as she stares at the girl, whose hands pull themselves tighter into her chest, how she tries not to break under the memories and Tempest knows. She _knows_ the feeling all to well to dismiss her suspicions of the Esoteric children now. They aren't terrorists, setting fear into the world. They're survivors, trying to save their own small part of the world. Luke and Danny share a look as Tempest leans forwards, reaching the same conclusion themselves.

"I was one of the few that was born. I lost my mother and my...father, he wasn't the best. I turned into a foster kid and one day, my powers surfaced - I could feel others emotions, I could pull knives out of thin air, that sorta stuff. And, one day...a man approached me with an offer. An offer I should have turned down." Gem pulls her gaze away, to stare at the white knuckles of Aiden. His hand loops through hers kindly, offering strength to speak.

But Gem doesn't get the chance. "Gem, may I ask you something?"

The brown-haired girl blinks, as if she hadn't noticed the shorter there. Her eyes narrow slightly, almost in nostalgia as she tries to remember something. Her voice is low, cast off somewhere else like a sea-line. "Yes..."

"Was this man's name Leon Queen?"

Immediately, everyone in the room tenses. The Ultimates seethe at the name, but Aiden and Gemstone stay seated, Aiden's jaw slackening slightly and Gem's eyebrows lifting high into her hairline, smothering the smooth white scar that sits along it. Softly, subtly, Tempest's suspicions are confirmed.

"H-How did you...?"

"I don't know if you'll believe me," the timid girl swallows around her own fear, her own demons that flare like fireworks in her belly at the memory of the man in the wheelchair, "but I've got an intimate past with that man; all of us do in a way. I guess, you could say, maybe...I'm like you?"

It's a pregnant pause before Gem begins to cry, staring in shock at the girl who loops her hands with Danny's and leans against Ava whilst holding a hand over Nova's chest, reciting his breathing softly, even whilst her mind races. Someone like them sided with SHIELD. Someone like them sided with an organization that had been hunting them down for _months_. Aiden stares in morbid shock at Gem - it's so terrible to watch her cry, so soft and sad, so he ties his hands with hers stronger, and turns to Tempest.

"H-How did you escape?" Aiden chokes, staring in shock, trying to figure out why someone like them would side with _them_. She doesn't look as tired or exhausted as the other survivors he's met, looks nothing like heartbreak in a test tube.

"I don't know. I think there was a rebel faction or the place blew up - the story's twisted but, I understand what he did to you," and the hand on Nova's chest pulls itself away, shaking like there's an earthquake in her bones, and she leans forwards to slot it carefully across the joined one's of Aiden and Gem. Gem's breath hitches, and her hand unloops itself from his to grip - tight and scared - to Tempest's own. "What he did wasn't right. You're trying to stop it, aren't you?"

"NOLE NEQUE, of _course_..." murmurs Luke under his breath, sighing at the anagram of Leon Queen's name that they'd missed and as Gem nods, desperate and hoping and waiting, waiting for months and years for someone to finally understand, she seems to deflate, happy sobs ricocheting out of her wheezing lungs. Aiden sends a pleased, happy smile, proud that the truth of what they've been doing has finally reached ears that could help.

"Oh god, oh thank _god_ , I thought you wouldn't understand...oh my god, that's such -"

But the world splits down the middle, and the pleasant hope that's pushed itself between brittle war trenches of misunderstanding breaks when rapid footsteps fill the room. The oak wood tree shakes and a boy, fiery red hair and blue eyes stares in fear. He murmurs, terrified and scared, in mixed Gaelic and English, pointing rapidly down the tunnel. Gem tries to comfort the boy, even with tears on her cheeks before she catches words, snippets that send hearts skidding across the floor.

'Ambush,' 'guns,' 'no way out.'

Immediately, Gem is speeding down the corridor, feet pounding heavily but sparingly, as if her feet can't touch the ground quick enough. Behind her, Aiden follows and the Ultimates stagger after them, confusion tasting sour on their tongues. As the tunnels dig deeper, the sounds of fighting and yelling and screaming fill the air.

And then, gunshots.

Gem pauses slightly, tripping over her own feet and tears pull their way through her eyes as she bends, as if a bullet has pierced her chest. And in a way, it has as the screams intensify. Then, she's suddenly off again, bursting into the light of the cavern. Aiden follows and then the Ultimates push their way through.

It's a massacre. The wide room, that had been filled with sick, dying children is suddenly alive with skidding feet and trampled hands and fingers. There's a sickening crack of bone breaking and somewhere, the room explodes into fire. Arching high above the children, are men and women dressed in full body suits, carrying thick guns and helmets with visors over their heads. They scoop children by the ankles, knock the teenagers out with the butt of their guns and flood the tunnels that wind from the center of the Esoteric hideout.

But the worst thing of the massacre - the SHIELD emblem is stitched neatly on the breast.

Gem roars, something broken and frightened but _mighty_ all the same, and her hands curl like stings are pulling her to the ground. Her hands throw themselves in a circle beside her head, arching towards a group of agents corralling a number of children and from beneath the cement, thick rock pulls upwards through it like spikes, decorated in greens and purples and pinks. The ground splits and throws rocks as teeth break our from beneath the cemented gums of the hideout. Gem's power.

Some agents jump out of the way, and some are unfortunately caught, the spikes pressing through their skin and the children scream but run; run just like they know how. Her anger splits on her teeth as she roars again and from somewhere, light shards propel her back. She tumbles before she can attack another agent.

She knows the name on her mouth before she see's her. " _Lux._ "

"Nice to see _you_ again, Gem."

As the world breaks and the SHIELD agents capture and steal and kidnap children that don't know any better than the world they've been forced into, Aiden turns. There's a rare fire in his eyes, something that isn't human and it looks, from the way his teeth grit, that he's trying not to kill them. The guilt spears them like hot iron.

"WE TRUSTED YOU!"

He throws himself into the crowd, screaming 'Kelli,' 'Kari,' 'Felicia' and 'Cornelia,' searching for his girls through the chaos. Through it all, they can see Lux throwing knives made of light, Stalker joining moments later. Shark runs rampant through the group, Rogue raises higher and dives under the darts of electricity that Bolt shudders into existence. The Ultimates stare in horror at the mess they've made.

They hadn't known - they'd thought their communicators were useless, they'd been _told_ they were useless. They'd never turned off the tracking beacon. They'd never thought to turn off their communicators, but memories link back to where Aiden had pulled out a phone and if there'd been lead in the room, Ivy would never have flung themselves through the door, would never have even received the text. The truth weighs hard on their lungs and Nova begins to stir on Luke's shoulder.

Suddenly, their communicators blare to life.


	9. cautivos

_**[noted]:**_

Hey guys ! So oh my god, this week has been busy. Not only did I score 20/20 on my coursework in one of my classes, I got accepted to my Grammar School Sixth Form and my backup, so I am legit dancing ! As well as working on something else, so yeah, it's been a pretty good week. I hope you guys enjoy this one, it gives up a major secret that I've been alluding too throughout the story.

It might not be the face-off scene you hoped for, with more nova/temp in it than usual, but I promise you'll get your face-off scene soon ! Leave me some reviews on whether or not you were surprised at the reveal and tell me what you think.

 **Minx98:** Thank you so much, I'm so glad you're enjoying !  
 **KingKatsu:** If I can, I respectfully disagree with the statement. It's not that he's a bad guy - I presented them all in the same light and he wasn't necessarily singled out, I don't think. But believe me, all of them will (possibly) redeem themselves if this is what makes them into a 'bad guy.' And don't worry, I'm just glad you're still reading.  
 **NobelSix** : Thank you.  
 **Guest(1):** I love your enthusiasm ! And yes, she hasn't had much since she's sick but believe me, Timeline will make a _world-tilting_ view later on. Might even _stop_ a few hearts whilst she's at it.  
 **FinalFantasyCrazedGirl01:** Your reviews make my day even better, thank you !  
 **MoonlightMistBorn:** Thank you so much ! Yeah, I do see them as a peacekeeping organization myself, but there have been times where they're determined to do something they think is right, but it's not. E.g.: when spidey and hulk switched and they were determined to detain him.  
 **Guest(2):** The line between good and bad is really thin, and people that have been taught to do one thing most of their lives find it really muddled.  
 **Wowza03:** I can actually answer that. As said, Stutter said there's lead throughout the hideout, but when they entered the room with the tree and all the 'collections' from the Esoteric kids, there can't be lead in the room as the sunlight needs to get in. And since their communicators are still active, since Luke could turn on a football game with it, meant that the time they spent in there gave SHIELD a window to track them.

Oh god, those were some long-ass replies.

* * *

 **[ chapter eight ]**

 ** _cautivos_**

Translation - Captives

Appropriation - "¿Quieres _saber_ cuál es mi problema , muchacho vuela ?"

* * *

He's prepared when the tidal wave of teenagers comes flooding into the central operations room.

But he isn't prepared for the shouting, the screaming, the undignified lack of respect in his presence. How they throw their arms like whirlwinds and their voices rattle with the need for justice, with the need for understanding high in their throats. His eyebrows raise an inch as they come barreling into his control room.

"May I ask," he hums slowly, deadly and threading haunting teeth across their spines through the words and they straighten upon impact, upon instinct. His own spine straightens from where it's arched over the monitors that line his control room, the large monitor that splits into different screens behind his head. On each screen, an Esoteric child is either screaming in anger, staring solemnly or worse, tucked away from the light. "What right do you have to tell me how to capture my own prisoners? _Terrorists?_ "

They don't hear the door open behind them; they don't see Paradox 13 enter slowly, as if approaching a battlefield riddled with bombs in the sand. Immediately, Spiderman throws a hand out. " _Because,_ Fury, they aren't terrorists and they aren't your prisoners. They're kids! -"

"With the knowledge and power to devastate and destroy entire countries if they tried, Spiderman."

"But they didn't!" His voice shakes with the weight of this need of understanding, with the need of listening. He needs them to listen, because these children - and still, _only_ children - were only trying to save themselves, trying to save others like them. There was good in them, tossed carelessly inside them and they then the world decided they didn't deserve to be seen with this good. With this hero-like responsibility in their hands. Spiderman suspects he should know the feeling - he's a hero too. "Does that mean _nothing_ to you?"

"What is this?" There's something shocked and distant in Bolt's words, something vaguely afraid as they whirl around, to find something new between the two teams. Where understanding had grown like wildflowers, and trust had bloomed under fingernails, the feeling was suddenly gone. There was sudden suspicion and betrayal there, as if the countless talks and training nights between the Ultimates and Paradox 13 were something like a memory somewhere else.

When no-one answers, Bolt squares his shoulders and his fingers clench, just like training has taught true, with distrust evident in every line of his body. He turns away, mouth turning downwards as he peers towards his teammates. Lux and Stalker are glowering, teeth bared and for Lux, uncharacteristically quiet. But there's a storm blooming beneath both their breastbones, so much that Shark and Force send each other a look, wary and curious. Shark plasters on his trademark shark-grin, however shakily he holds it in place.

Powerman lays a hand flat, as if to flatten the situation. "Look, this isn't anything against you guys. We've just found some new information on Esoteric that could possibly say that these acts _were_ accidents and -"

"ACCIDENTS?!"

Stalker and Lux are both immediately bent at the waist, fingers dashed into claws and there's something that shakes Lux, something not quite fear or anger, but it bleeds light through her teeth all the same. The shadows twitch violently, and it takes Bolt's hand on her back to calm Stalker, but Lux has no one. Lux is all teeth and fear and splitting atoms when she steps forwards.

"You think what they did were accidents!? They slaughtered families, _children,_ to get their damn precious cargo! they hurt people," when she speaks, there's a sob in her throat and everyone flinches, because it's so hard to see the light-bearer cry, with her tough exterior breaking to splinters. Shark hangs out a hand to her, to wind it around her waist in comfort, but she shrugs him off, ever the tough girl. "They hurt anyone who stood in their way and didn't care who they were!"

"Lux, when you see this new information we've -"

"I don't _want_ to see any information on those _criminals!_ "

"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." Iron Fist raises a hand towards them in a stop motion, face neutral with a small smile. Stalker twitches, trying not to glare at what the chi-wielder is trying to say.

Lux, however, has no filter. "Can it, blondie. I'm not forgiving her- _them._ "

"Hey!" bites Nova, stepping to Iron Fist's defense with his aura bleeding brightly against the grey, blackened background of the hellicarrier. He hangs over Lux, hands planted over his chest tightly. "I don't know what your problem is with them, you little _firefly_ , but -"

"That is _enough!_ " Nick Fury pushes between the two teams, leveling a glare at both. Immediately, they shrink back, but there's still hostility between them. "Now, you are under _my_ orders and if you want to fight, then I suggest you do it in the training room and get it out of your damn systems, and _not_ in _my_ control room!"

There's a beat as he lowers his hands, as their rapidly heaving chests lower to soft jitters under their uniforms. But, against every hard condition and battle that's worn her into a soldier, Lux hooks an arm around the director and steps around him. But the toughness she exudes so violently is no longer there, and her hands lower like the pieces of herself are falling through the gaps between her fingers. There's a childlike innocence, that they aren't sure has truly ever rested on her face, when she stares at them.

She levels a glare at Nova, no heat in anger to it this time. "Do you wanna _know_ what my problem is, flyboy?" And with fingers stuttering like fault lines, like fissures ripped open, Lux pulls down the zipper of her uniform slightly, from her navel to the bridge of her hips and slips her left arm out. Eyes widen and Stalker's hands grip onto her forearms where they're folded, angry at herself for not saving her teammate when the 'accident' happened.

" _You try talking to me when Gemstone stabs you._ "

Blooming wildly across her ribs, is a large, rippling scar, angry and still blossoming red from however long it has been indented into her Mexican-heritage skin. It splits and curves around every jut of bone and White Tiger turns away, the urge to vomit flaring up like fire in her gut. Nova's feet touch the ground.

With a huff, the girl pulls her arm through the sleeve violently and zips the uniform back into place, however, she zips it to between her collarbones rather than above her navel. Her eyes glance away, shoulders arching up as if her biggest secret has been divulged. And in a way, it has - she's ashamed of the scar, of the way it cracks along the edges of her skin and mostly, for the way Stalker feels she's failed her. She knows the girl can still hear her screaming and see her body held up by the weapons, can still feel the blood on her clothes when Gem pulled her shards from her ribs and punctured a lung and she can still count the minutes that dragged to days as Stalker helped fix Lux back together. Because _that_ is what leaders do.

"We...We didn't know."

"Because we didn't tell you," bites Shark, and finally, he hooks an arm around the brunette and she instantly folds herself into him, arms pulling around his torso and he runs a hand up and down her arm. His gaze softens when her eyes begin to droop, tired from the energy of the fight, and they harden when he looks back to the Ultimates. "Nothing good can come from those people. They hurt people, no matter who they are. No matter if they're trying to help."

"You can believe what they say, what they _lie_ about," hisses Stalker, hands unfolding and the darkness settles, but there's still an undercurrent that twitches through, like they stand on the belly of a beast. She turns to leave, sending Stalker a soft look before striding past. "But we won't go along with it."

When they leave, and the control room slips into quiet, it stays that way until Nick Fury turns to the Ultimates who have guilty and broken looks on their faces. "You kids didn't know; we never gave you their full information for security purposes. It's not your fault."

"Then what are we supposed to do now, Fury? Esoteric or Paradox 13?"

"That's for you to decide, Spiderman. Me; I'm just the one supplying you with the toys."

* * *

Her shirt falls down her body when the light from the hallway bleeds a golden square across the floor, pierced by a shadow that walks through the door with a hard-set to their shoulders. Mostly everyone else is asleep, and only Ava stirs, pushing further under her covers with a snuffle and movement of fabric before the room descends back into silence.

Tempest turns, and her heart rattles a little bit when she see's him, dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that's obviously not his; from the mud stains long since dried and ripped edge of the shirt, she can only guess it's an heirloom of his father's he's snatched from his mother's drawer when he visits. Dark hair is tussled from his fingers being run through it and he instantly strides past her, across the room to his bed. He pauses when, as he sits down to pull the covers from the edge, she softly perches beside him.

A green eye peers over his shoulder, catching the bitten lip and concerned eyes as she tries to hook herself to look at the bruise against his temple. But his pride pulls him back, to turn his back to her and try to dig more fervently for the covers that have been folded beneath the pillows. She sighs behind him.

"Sam."

He shuffles away when her hand goes to cup his chin, insurmountable pride taking root in his chest and he _wants_ to be angry. But he doesn't dig for the covers anymore, because even _if_ he's angry, he knows that ignoring the brown-eyed girl will shatter the carefully constructed trust between them. So he sits there, brows down-turned and eyes gazing everywhere other than the hand that flits from view.

But over the years, from insecurities to confidence, she's grown and soon, she's crouching in front of him, hands folding around the curves of his jaw and forcing him, with hands as soft as feathers, to look at her. This time, he doesn't shy away, as she tries to catch his gaze. "Sam. Talk to me."

"Why were you mad earlier? We've never...actually had a fight."

He flinches at the way his voice reaches childish fear, something he'd bitten down on since he woke up from the knockout he'd received on the precipice of their fight - whatever it was. He could still see the way her face had twisted, how she'd leaned forwards to bark at him to "shut up." It'd struck something that his brash attitude didn't like, and as always, when backed into a corner, the latino fought.

But he never thought it'd be Tempest, with her docile nature and gentle hands - she'd never resorted to yelling at him if he got on her nerves. It wasn't rare she got on his, but likewise, he never resorted to yelling either. He can see the flash of recognition in her brown eyes, and the way her cheeks blush from embarrassment makes him almost laugh.

With kindness she shouldn't have been gifted with, Tempest sits beside him, legs half resting over his knees and she ghosts a hand over his cheek. His hand wraps around her waist, keeping her upright against his shoulder as she averts her gaze, searching for a jumble of words lost between her collarbones. She rubs a fist to her eyes before finally looking up at him.

"I...don't really know. I was just, I don't know, my blood was running high and I was frustrated. But that's not an excuse; I made a mistake and I'm sorry I yelled at you."

His chest deflates with relief and a grin tugs his mouth upwards. In reply, he presses a kiss to her cheek, which she leans into gladly - she was always afraid of the mistakes she'd made, and he'd learned to reward her when she recognized them. "I'm sorry too. I can be annoying."

"No kidding," she giggles around the annoyed look he throws her in the lamplight, and smiles at the way it softens his features. How the sharp angle of his nose is overshadowed and gentle and she swears, she's never seen stardust look so beautiful. She pats his shoulder, and presses the back of her hand to his cheek to angle his head. "Now, lemme get a look at that bruise."

"Ow."

"Sorry."

"Ow!"

" _Sorry._ "

" _Ow-w-w!_ "

"I didn't even touch you then," and when he smirks at her from beneath dark locks, she huffs around her breath and smacks the back of her hand against his chest, eliciting a laugh from beneath his breastbone. It floods every part of her, and the warmth of it makes her smile as his arm winds further around her waist and her head dips against his collarbone.

With a nod towards the bed, she climbs in gently, sleep already wrapping it's arms around her and she sinks against him, tying their hands together over his chest as he settles beside her. But there's something eating at her, something grasping and clawing and biting at her muscles. It makes breathing hard and her mind flickers.

"Hey," he's half-asleep when he looks at her, but he knows by now when her mind is uneasy, even in the dying glow of lamplight. He presses his face into the strands of hair that fall over her forehand, pressing a kiss to them, "what're you thinking about?"

"Esoteric. And Paradox 13. Sam, what're we gonna do? They're at each other's throats."

He rubs a comforting hand over her arm, smiling around the call to rest to put her demons to bed for a while, as well as his own at the impending crash of the two opposing teams soon. "I-I don't know Temp, I wasn't awake for them to really know like you guys. All we can do now is...probably let them duke it out."

"And if they kill each other?"

"...Danny would have a really good proverb for this, but I'm tired. Go to sleep, Temp. We'll talk about it later."


End file.
